FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


DMstou 

Section  <9$??f'7 


POEMS. 


Books  by 
HARRIET  McEWEN  KIMBALL 

Hymns,  1866 
Swallow  Flights,  1874 
The  Blessed  Company,  1879 
Poems,  1889,  1911 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/poemOOkimb 


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HARRIET  McEWEN   KIMBALL 


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POEMS 


JAN  22  1933 


BY 


HARRIET  McEWEN  KIMBALL 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1911 


Copyright,  i8Sg,  ign, 
By  Harriet  McEwen  Kimball. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  November,  191 1 


THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
WILLIAM   WINTER 

WHO    MORE    THAN    ANY    LIVING    WRITER    HAS    ENRICHED 

AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

WITH    THE    MANIFOLD    PRODUCTIONS    OF    HIS    CLASSIC 

PEN,  AND  BY  WHOSE  FRIENDSHIP  I  HAVE  BEEN 

ENRICHED     FOR     MORE     THAN     HALF 

A    CENTURY 

I    DEDICATE    THIS    BOOK 


CONTENTS. 


RELIGIOUS  AND  CONTEMPLATIVE. 

PAGE 

All's  Well 3 

The  Guest      4 

Omniscience 6 

Intercession 8 

His  Chosen  Ones 10 

Jesus,  My  Refuge 11 

The  Blessed  Company 13 

The  Early  Mass 17 

Discouragement 18 

"Thou  Art  a  Place  to  Hide  Me  In" 21 

The  Uneventful  Days 22 

The  Procession      24 

The  Vision  in  the  Chalice 25 

Security      28 

An  Almoner  of  Christ 30 

Faith 34 

In  Paradise 36 

The  Magnificat 38 

The  House  of  God 39 

"AnimaChristi"      45 

"  I  will  never  Leave  Thee  nor  Forsake  Thee "     ...  46 

Quicken  Thou  Me 49 

Hymn  of  Adoration 50 

My  Field 52 

Apprehension 53 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

"Give us  This  Day  our  Daily  Bread"      55 

The  Way  of  Thorns 57 

The  Monk  of  La  Trappe 59 

His  Peace 62 

The  Bride  of  Christ 64 

"It  is  I" 67 

When  I  Awake      68 

Anxiety 70 

The  Perfect  Friend 72 

"Could  I  but  Have  Thee  back  Again" 74 

"Him  that  Cometh  to  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  Cast  out"  76 

In  the  Garden 78 

The  Two  Cities 81 

"  No  one  Taketh  your  Peace  away  " 84 

The  Waning  Year 86 

Vale 89 

i 
OCCASIONAL. 

FEAST  AND  FASTS  OF  THE   CHUECH,   ETC. 

The  Nativity 93 

"The  sweetest  Hymn  that  ever  was  sung"      ....  99 

Mary  Mother 101 

"This  is  the  True  God" 102 

"Ended  the  Vigil  of  Ages" 104 

Christmas  Carol 107 

"  There  was  no  Room  for  them  in  the  Inn "    ....  109 

Hymn  for  Good  Friday Ill 

A  Meditation 113 

Calvary 114 

The  Resurrection      115 

"  Sing  ye  lowly ,  Sing  ye  great "       118 

!' Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light'!   ...  120 


CONTENTS.  IX 

The  Transfiguration 122 

Missionary  Processional 124 

SONNETS. 

PAGE 

To  John  Greenleaf  Whittier 129 

"  He  opened  not  His  mouth  " 130 

A  Woodland  Hour 131 

' '  Save  that  there  may  be  one  Love-Garnering  Breast "  132 

Prophecy 133 

The  Morning  Chamber 134 

Inscribed  to  J.  W.  and  C.  H 136 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

At  the  Stand  of  the  Tide 141 

The  Flight  of  the  Birds 143 

My  Namesake 144 

Friends 146 

White  Azaleas 149 

Midwinter  Days 150 

The  Lilacs      152 

In  Spring-Time 153 

Love's  Visitation 155 

The  Doves 157 

Song 159 

My  Dream 160 

A  Vigil 163 

Confirmation 164 

Summer-Time 166 

Cradle  Songs 167 

Sweet-Peas 170 

Incognita 173 

Heliotrope      174 

Day-Lilies 175 

The  Crickets 178 

The  Lingering  October  Weather 179 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Knitting  Song 181 

Love  for  Love 183 

Dedication  of  a  Guest-Book 184 

Two  Men 186 

The  Baby  I  Love      187 

Lines  written  in  a  House-Book       189 

Returned 190 

In  Autumn 191 

My  Picture 195 

The  Home  Among  the  Hills 197 

A  Harvest  Hymn      199 

To  John  Greenleaf  Whittier  on  his  Eightieth  Birthday  201 

Woman  (1862) 203 

Abraham  Lincoln  (1865) 206 

Epitaph  on  Albert  Laighton 208 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

The  author  wishes  to  acknowledge  the  courtesy  of  The 
Century  Company  in  granting  permission  to  reprint  in 
this  collection  the  poem  "  My  Picture." 


RELIGIOUS  AND  CONTEMPLATIVE. 


ALL'S  WELL. 


'"PHE  day  is  ended.     Ere  I  sink  to  sleep, 
■*■     ]>ly  weary  spirit  seeks  repose  in  Thine. 
Father !  forgive  my  trespasses,  and  keep 
This  little  life  of  mine. 


"With  loving-kindness  curtain  Thou  my  bed, 
And  cool  in  rest  my  burning  pilgrim-feet ; 
Thy  pardon  be  the  pillow  for  my  head  ; 
So  shall  my  sleep  be  sweet. 

At  peace  with  all  the  world,  dear  Lord,  and  Thee, 
No  fears  my  soul's  unwavering  faith  can  shake ; 
All 's  well,  whichever  side  the  grave  for  me 
The  morning  light  may  break. 

3 


THE   GUEST. 


Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock :  if  any  man  hear 
my  voice  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will 
sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me.  —  Rev.  iii.  20. 

OPEECHLESS  Sorrow  sat  with  me; 

**■*     I  was  sighing  wearily  j 

Lamp  and  fire  were  out ;  the  rain 

Wildly  beat  the  window-pane. 

In  the  dark  I  heard  a  knock, 

And  a  hand  was  on  the  lock. 

One  in  waiting  spake  to  me, 

Saying  sweetly, 
"I  am  come  to  sup  with  thee." 

All  my  room  was  dark  and  damp ; 
"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  trim  the  lamp, 
Light  the  fire,  and  cheer  thy  face, 
Set  the  guest-chair  in  its  place." 
And  again  I  heard  the  knock ; 
In  the  dark  I  found  the  lock  : 
"  Enter,  I  have  turned  the  key,  — 

Enter,  Stranger, 
Who  art  come  to  sup  with  me." 

4 


THE  GUEST. 

Opening  wide  the  door  he  came, 
But  I  could  not  speak  his  name ; 
In  the  guest-chair  took  his  place, 
But  I  could  not  see  his  face. 
When  my  cheerful  fire  was  beaming, 
When  my  little  lamp  was  gleaming, 
And  the  feast  was  spread  for  three, 

Lo,  my  Master 
Was  the  Guest  that  supped  with  me  ! 


OMNISCIENCE. 


'  I  ^HE  door  is  shut  and  yet  Thou  enterest  in, 
**•       Without  or  lifting  latch  or  loosening  bar ! 
Friends  who  have  known  me  best  and  longest  win 

No  entrance  here ;  but  only  stand  afar 
Oblivious  of  the  hiding  places  deep 
Where  I  myself  unconsciously  do  keep. 


Thou  enterest  in,  0  Lord,  Omnipotent, 
Omniscient,  Omnipresent,  yet  unseen ; 

Thy  patient  eyes  upon  me  ever  bent ; 

No  faintest  mist  hung  piteously  between 

To  veil  my  thoughts  or  my  infirmities 

From  those  all-searching  and  long-suffering  eyes. 

As  I  am  seen  could  I  but  gaze  on  Thee 
Awful  in  majesty  and  royal  might, 

Yet  as  a  lamb  in  love's  simplicity, 

And  as  a  spotless  lamb  of  matchless  white, 

So  kingly  yet  so  lowly  !  —  could  I  see, 

What,  0  my  Saviour,  would  become  of  me ! 
6 


OMNISCIENCE.  7 

This,  this  I  know ;  no  word  of  self-excuse 

For  any  fault  of  mine  my  tongue  could  frame ; 

Nay,  more  ;  for  very  shame  I  should  refuse 

The  shield,  if  there  could  be  a  shield  from  blame 

And  all  the  love  that  human  breast  can  know 

Would  at  Thy  feet  lay  me  forever  low ! 


INTERCESSION. 

"T  7C  7HY  should  we  pray  alone  for  those  whose 
*  *  faces 

Our  eyes  behold ;  for  those  we  think  are  near ; 
Or  those  who  dwelling  in  remoter  places 
Are  yet  accounted  Here  ? 

God  builds  no  walls  of  time  or  space  to  sever ; 

JT  is  we  who  put  each  other  far  away  ; 
Who  live  in  Christ,  or  Here  or  There,  must  ever 
For  one  another  pray. 

The  bond  our  human  hearts  so  oft  have  tested 

Is  not  a  rope  of  sand,  a  thing  of  earth ; 
And  prayer  is  love's  own  language,  and  invested 
With  a  mysterious  worth. 

How  near  the  world's  horizons  are  !    How  nearer 

The  borders  fair  of  Paradise  the  blest ! 
Our    dear    ones   Here,    and  —  only  grown    the 
dearer  — 
Our  dear  ones  There,  at  rest. 

O  blessed  hope  that  triumphs  over  distance  ! 

O  faith  that  trembles  on  the  brink  no  more! 
0  love  that  girds  its  loins  with  glad  insistence 
And  finds  the  unseen  shore  ! 
8 


INTERCESSION. 


0  Very  Man  !     The  Lord  of  Life  unending ! 

With  Thee  for  all  who  live  in  Thee  we  plead ; 
Since  Thou  our  Pattern  to  Thy  throne  ascending 
Livest  to  intercede. 


HIS  CHOSEN  ONES. 

OOME  souls  there  are  beloved  of  God, 
^  Who,  following  where  the  saints  have  trod, 
Learn  such  surrender  of  the  will 
They  seem  insensible  of  ill. 

Yet  finely  strung  and  sensitive 
They  live  far  more  than  others  live, 
And  griefs  and  pain's  experience 
Must  be  to  them  far  more  intense. 

0  mystery  that  such  can  know 
A  life  impregnable  to  woe ! 
O  paradox  that  God  alone 
In  secret  proveth  to  His  own ! 

It  must  be  that  supremest  grace 
So  nerves  them  for  the  heavenly  race 
Their  litanies  are  turned  to  psalms, 
Their  crosses,  even  here,  to  palms. 
10 


JESUS,   MY  REFUGE. 

TESTIS,  my  Refuge,  to  the  secret  places 

Where  Thou  dost  hide  I  flee, 
To  learn  Thy  blessed  Truth,  from  all  the  mazes 
Of  human  thought  set  free. 

Without  denial  and  without  refraining 

I  must  receive  Thy  word ; 
Not  what  Thou  meanest  after  man's  explaining, 

But  what  Thou  sayest,  Lord. 

Shut  from  the  strife  of  tongues  that  yield  con- 
fusion 

Quick  grows  the  inward  ear 
Thy  sweet  assurance,  stripped  of  all  delusion, 

In  humble  faith  to  hear. 

In  mysteries  beyond  the  dim  perceiving 

Of  Reason's  clouded  eyes, 
Thou  dost  reveal  Thyself  to  souls  believing, 

Too  loving  for  disguise. 

11 


12  JESUS,   MY  REFUGE. 

And  oh,  how  loving,  dearest  Lord,  how  tender 

Beyond  all  love  Thou  art 
When  to  Thy  feet  we  cling  in  full  surrender, 

With  sorrow-broken  heart ! 


Absolving,  healing,  strengthening,  uniting, 

Through  sacramental  grace, 
And  to  communion  closer  yet  inviting, 

Thou  dost  unveil  Thy  face. 

For  faith  alone  low-kneeling  in  contrition 

The  load  of  sin  grows  light ; 
To  faith  alone  Thou  dost  vouchsafe  that  vision, 

And  faith  is  almost  sight. 


"THE   BLESSED   COMPANY   OF   ALL 
FAITHFUL    PEOPLE." 

~D  ETWEEjST  the  gray  dawn  and  the  golden  day 

*—*     Methought  low  murmurs  troubled  all  the 

land,  — 

Disquietude  and  strife  where  should  be  peace, 

In  the  white  tents  of  that  sweet  Prince  of  Peace 

Whose  hosts  encamp  amidst  "  a  naughty  world." 

As  swelled  the  murmurs,  under  all  I  heard 

The  sighing  of  the  leaders,  men  of  prayer, 

Steadfast  in  faith,  though  sometimes  faint  of  voice, 

Worn  with  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day, 

And  the  half-hearted  zeal  of  many  a  rank  ; 

And  harsh  above  their  sighings  louder  rose 

The  sounds  of  party  and  opposing  speech, 

And  louder  yet  the  petty-tongued  complaints 

Of  such  as  had  not  learned  obedience, 

That  first,  last  law  for  these  rebellious  hearts, 

Given  of  God  and  taught  of  Holy  Church. 

Anon,  and  piercing  all  the  clamor  through, 

The  Lord's  own  heralds  blew  their  bugle-notes ; 

For  He  would  set  the  faithful  in  array. 

Then  sudden  silence  made  a  little  space 

For  the  One  Voice  that  fills  the  universe, 

And  Christ's  own  roll-call  swept  the  white  camp 

through. 

13 


14  THE  BLESSED    COMPANY    OF 

And  lo  !  the  faithful  noiseless  moved  as  thought 

Responsive,  yet  unconscious  of  response, 

Their  rapt  eyes  lifted  to  the  shining  morn, 

As  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible. 

He  named  them,  clan  by  clan,  His  chosen  ones : 

The  poor  in  spirit,  and  the  souls  that  mourn, 

The  meek,  and  those  for  righteousness  athirst, 

The  merciful,  the  pure  in  heart,  the  just, 

The  valiant,  the  forbearing,  named  He  thus. 

For  every  clan  a  benediction  sweet, 

And  sweeter  promises  of  victory,  thus  :  — 

Blessed  are  the  poor, 

Jesus  spSke  ; 

Poor  in  spirit  for  My  sake ; 

Who  seek  the  glory  of  this  world  no  more, 

Nor  gather  riches  that  shall  fly  away ; 

Of  the  heavenly  kingdom  heirs  are  they. 

Blessed, 

Blessed  they  who  mourn,  He  said  j 

Precious  are  the  tears  they  shed, 

The  ashes  on  the  bowed  head. 

All  their  sins  confessed, 

They  shall  be  comforted. 

Blessed  are  the  meek, 

Who  seek 

The  Father's  will  in  quietness  and  peace, 

Caring  little  for  all  things  beside ; 


ALL  FAITHFUL  PEOPLE.  15 

They  shall  increase, 

And  with  the  fulness  of  the  earth  be  satisfied. 

Blessed  they,  He  said, 

After  righteousness  an-hungered ; 

Blessed  they  whose  thirst 

The  pleasures  of  this  world  accurst 

Have  not  stilled ; 

With  My  bread 

Shall  the  famished  be  fed  ; 

With  My  wine  the  parched  lips  be  filled. 

Blessed,  blessed  they 

The  merciful,  whose  ears 

Are  swift  to  hear  the  crying  of  distress  ; 

Soft  as  the  rain  in  summer  fall  their  tears ; 

Their  place  is  found  beside  the  fatherless. 

Yea, 

Blessed  they 

To  whom  the  outcast  and  the  poor  complain 

Not  in  vain  ; 

Mercies  numberless* 

They  hereafter  shall  obtain. 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  He  said, 
Whose  feet  the  paths  of  holiness  do  tread, 
Whose  looks  are  God-ward,  and  whose  hands  are 

clean ; 
Through  glories  manifold 
Shall  they  behold 
Him  whom  no  eye  hath  seen. 


IQ  THE  BLESSED    COMPANY. 

Blessed  they  who  seek 

To  turn  all  strife  to  peace, 

Whose  words  are  as  a  covert  to  the  weak, 

Who  make  the  anger  of  the  strong  to  cease ; 

Children  of  God  shall  they 

Be  called  for  aye. 

Blessed  they  who  steadfast  stand 

Through  persecutions  dread, 

Though  on  every  hand 

The  wicked  bend  the  bow 

To  lay  them  low  ; 

Theirs  the  kingdom  never  vanquished. 

Blessed  ye  when  men  revile 

And  persecute  you  falsely  for  My  sake ; 

Ye  who,  walking  without  guile, 

With  Me  partake 

Shame  and  scorn  awhile. 

Yea,  rejoice, 

Ye  who  fly  not  from  the  arrows  of  the  strong ; 

Be  exceeding  glad,  for  unto  you  is  given 

Great  reward  in  heaven  ; 

Even  now  lift  up  your  voice 

In  victorious  song ; 

For  so  persecuted  they 

The  prophets  in  their  day  : 

Again  rejoice. 

Then  all  the  winds  of  heaven  :  Amen  I  Amen  / 


THE  EAELY  MASS. 

/~P0  rise  betimes  and  go  my  way 
•*■    While  yet  the  world  around  is  still; 
To  Him  Who  in  the  hush  of  day 
Will  come  my  needy  soul  to  fill ; 

To  taste  and  see  how  graciously 
On  those  who  seek  He  doth  bestow, 
Then  from  the  Altar's  mystery 
Laden  with  benediction  go ; 

Returning  oft  till  eventide, 
In  heart  if  not  in  very  deed 
Still  in  His  Presence  to  abide, 
Still  on  His  Very  Presence  feed. 

17 


DISCOUKAGEMENT. 

T    ORD,  when  I  strive  to  serve  Thee  most, 
-L/      Yet  toil  in  vain  ; 
When  I  can  see  but  labor  lost, 
Instead  of  gain ; 

When  plans  fall  out  another  way 

From  what  seems  best, 
And  failure  comes  though  I  obey 

Thy  clear  behest ; 

When  hopes  whereon  I  dare  to  lean 

Thou  dost  deny ; 
When  Thou  forbiddest  me  to  glean 

The  fields  hard  by  ; 

When  fairest  prospects  opening  wide 

Before  mine  eyes, 
Thou  wallest  in  on  every  side, 

And  mountains  rise 

That  faith  seems  powerless  to  remove,  — 

Then,  dearest  Lord, 
Draw  near  to  me,  draw  near  and  prove 

Thy  written  Word ! 
18 


» 


DIS  CO  URA  GEMENT.  \  9 

That  Thou  in  all  things  dost  ordain 

Thy  children's  good ; 
That  joy  shall  be  the  fruit  of  pain 

When  understood, 

I  know,  and  yet  (0  slow  of  heart !) 

But  half  believe ; 
And  when  I  fail  in  secret  smart, 

And  fret,  and  grieve. 

Fill  me  with  faith's  divine  content 

In  Thee,  0  Lord, 
And  make  me  willing  to  be  spent 

Without  reward ! 

Yea,  Lord,  without  one  smallest  gain, 

Though  sought  alone 
For  others'  good,  by  toil  and  pain, 

Not  for  mine  own. 

And  when  my  failures  cast  me  down, 

Make  me  to  rest, 
Not  in  the  thought  of  any  crown, 

But  on  Thy  breast. 

The  weary  sea-bird  goes  to  sleep 

On  tossing  waves, 
Untroubled  by  the  storm,  the  deep, 

In  trust  that  saves. 


20  DISCO  URA  GEMENT. 

It  is  the  hollow  of  Thy  hand 
That  shapes  its  nest ; 

So,  though  I  may  not  understand, 
Make  me  to  rest. 


"THOU  AKT  A  PLACE  TO   HIDE 
ME  IN." 

T  X  7ITHOUT  I  hear  the  beating  of  the  rain, 
*  *      The  howling  winds  that  tell  the  storm's 
increase  ; 
0  covert  sure  that  he  who  seeks  may  gain !  — 
Within  abideth  peace  ! 

Without  I  hear  the  sound  of  feet  that  halt, 

And  grope  and  stumble  in  the  blinding  night ; 
0  blessed  faith  that  serveth  in  default 
Of  what  men  call  the  light ! 

O  rest,  0  wayside  inn,  where  home  is  not 

Eor  the  poor  pilgrim  to  that  city  fair 
Where  strife  shall  cease  and  doubtings  be  forgot ! 
The  Lamb,  the  Light  is  there ! 

21 


THE  UNEVENTFUL  DAYS. 

T  ~X  7HEN  sorrow  comes  I  fly  to  Thee, 
*  *       The  only  refuge  sorrow  knows, 
And  prostrate  at  Thy  feet,  dear  Lord, 
Recall  Thy  own  unfathomed  woes. 

When  joy  is  mine  a  flood  of  light 
Awakes  my  soul  to  heavenly  things, 

And  psalms  of  glad  thanksgiving  lend 
To  every  thought  devotion's  wings. 

But  when  the  noiseless  weeks  go  by, 
Unmarked  by  any  conscious  change, 

How  doth  their  uneventfulness 

My  careless  heart  from  Thee  estrange  ! 

Yet  verily  to  just  such  days 
Do  lengthened  litanies  belong, 

And  psalms  of  never-faltering  praise 
In  alternations  sweet  and  strong. 

Not  when  the  waters  overwhelm, 
Or  glad  surprises  lift  our  head, 

Do  we  most  need  to  feel  Thee  near, 
Dear  Giver  of  our  daily  bread! 

22 


THE  UNEVENTFUL  DAYS.  23 

Each  night  the  solemn  threshold  is 
Of  something  never  known  before  ; 

Each  morning  for  our  sandalled  feet 
Thou  swingest  wide  another  door. 

Each  moment  is  in  very  truth 

A  moment  of  unguessed  suspense, 

And  sleepless  fear  and  gratitude 

Should  be  the  faithful  soul's  defence. 

Nearer  and  nearer  should  she  draw 

In  ceaseless  prayer,  in  ceaseless  praise, 

And  hide  the  closer,  Lord,  with  Thee 
Through  these  the  uneventful  days. 


THE  PEOCESSIOX. 

r~PHROUGH  one  mysterious  gate  not  far  away 

A  long  procession  passes  day  by  day, 
Like  a  vast  army  through  a  dim  defile, 
And  vanishes  —  mysterious  mile  by  mile. 

It  has  no  break,  recruiting  as  it  goes, 

But  when  or  where,  though  watching,  no  one 

knows. 
Noiseless  and  shadow-like  it  passes  on ; 
It  ever  goeth,  but  is  never  gone. 

M  How  long,  0  Lord  !  "  I  sometimes  dare  to  sigh ; 
And  hear  His  own  long-suffering  reply : 
11  All  things  that  are  against  My  will,"  He  saith, 
"  Shall  surely  cease ;  there  shall  be  no  more  death" 

24 


THE  VISION  IN  THE  CHALICE. 

HpHE  priest  before  the  Altar 
*-       Stood  with  uplifted  eyes, 
His  heart  deep  stirred  within  him, 
To  offer  the  sacrifice. 

The  morning's  golden  splendor 

Through  the  chancel  window  streamed 
Till  like  masses  of  precious  jewels 

The  radiant  colors  seemed. 

But  around  the  central  picture 
Of  the  Christ  upon  the  Rood 

It  shone  like  a  wondrous  halo 
As  the  priest  upgazing  stood. 

The  prayer  of  consecration 

Began  he  low  and  clear, 
And  at  the  mystic  sentence 

Bowed  down  in  holy  fear ; 

Bowed  lowly  over  the  Paten, 

As  he  took  in  his  hands  the  Bread ; 

And  likewise  the  mystic  sentence 

Over  the  Cup  he  said. 

25 


26  THE   VISION  IN  THE    CHALICE. 

When  lo  !  in  the  golden  Chalice, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
He  saw  reflected  the  image 

Of  the  Crucified  Form  Divine. 

Filled  with  a  sudden  tremor, 

His  eyes  deep  fixed  on  the  sight, 
Scarcely  the  prayer  he  followed 

Or  knew  if  he  said  it  aright. 

Trembling  with  adoration 

He  lifted  the  Chalice  high, 
As  upholding  the  sacred  Burden 

Between  the  earth  and  the  sky. 

And  still  when  the  Chalice  he  lowered, 

Distinct  in  the  purple  wine, 
From  the  chancel  windows  reflected 

He  saw  the  Image  Divine. 

Did  he  hear  in  the  hush  that  followed 

The  words  of  the  Lord  anew, 
Brought  down  by  the  Church  through  the  ages, 

The  mystical  charge,  "  This  do  "  ? 

Did  he  hear  from  the  Holy  of  holies, 

The  secret,  eternal  shrine, 
The  Priest  who  is  Priest  forever 

Renew  the  assurance  divine  ?  — 


THE   VISION  IN   THE  CHALICE.  27 

"  Lo  !  I  am  with  you  alway, 

Blessing  the  Cup  that  you  bless ; 

Under  the  Bread  you  have  broken 
My  Presence  proclaim  and  confess. 

"Lo!  I  am  with  you  alway, 
Mine  own  command  to  fulfil ; 

I  am  the  Sacrifice  offered, 

The  Priest  and  the  Victim  still. 

u  Lo  !  I  am  with  you  alway, 

Feeding  the  flock  that  you  feed, 

My  Flesh  the  manna  unfailing, 
My  Blood  the  drink  indeed." 

0  blessed,  0  wondrous  commission ! 

It  seemed  to  the  lowly  priest 
Like  a  precious  new  revelation, 

As  he  shared  with  his  flock  that  Feast. 

And  ever  enshrined  in  his  bosom 

He  treasures  with  holy  awe 
The  memory  of  the  vision 

That  veiled  in  the  Chalice  he  saw . 


SECURITY. 

T^VEEP  in  the  grass  the  trustful  lark 
^^^     Conceals  its  lowly  nest, 
Where  cruel  eye  may  seldom  mark 
Or  cruel  hand  molest. 

At  least  approach  of  footsteps  rude 

The  little  bird  upsprings ; 
Erom  solitude  to  solitude 

It  soars  on  swiftest  wings. 

Ear  up  the  azure  height  it  soars 
Beyond  the  reach  of  wrong, 

And  from  its  modest  breast  outpours 
Its  rapt,  entrancing  song. 

Thus  dwells  the  pious  soul  secure, 

In  meditation  blest ; 
The  foot  of  pride,  ambition's  lure, 

Scarce  find  the  hidden  nest. 

And  when  the  tempter  draweth  near, 
His  faintest  footsteps  heard, 

Swift  on  the  wings  of  holy  fear 
She  soars  as  soars  the  bird. 
28 


SECURITY.  29 

Free  in  the  vast  encircling  sky 

Of  God's  protecting  grace, 
She  pours  her  matchless  song  on  high 

Of  thankfulness  and  praise. 


AN  ALMONER  OF  CHRIST. 

"W'OTJ  will  wonder,  but,  0  friend,  believe  it  — 
-*-      This  sweet  tale  that  I  am  fain  to  tell ; 
We  of  little  faith  can  scarce  conceive  it, 
But  this  miracle  a  priest  befell. 

Hidden  in  his  breast  for  swift  bestowing 
His  last  bit  of  money  waiting  lay  ; 

For  on  Christ's  own  errands  ever  going, 
In  His  Name  he  gave  it  all  away. 

Bit  by  bit  his  Master  still  supplied  him 
Who  his  face  turned  not  from  any  poor; 

Niggard  souls  there  are  who  might  deride  him, 
But  no  blessing  enters  at  their  door  ! 

God,  who  knoweth,  sends  just  such  a  servant 
On  His  secret  service  serving  Him; 

Slothful  souls  like  us,  and  unobservant, 
Cannot  see  the  way  ;  our  faith  is  dim. 

Well,  this  good  priest  on  his  round  of  duty, 
Sad  at  heart  upon  that  summer  day, 

In  the  heat  that  scorched  the  summer's  beauty 
Sought  the  bedside  where  a  young  girl  lay. 
30 


AN  ALMONER   OF   CHRIST.  31 

Life  and  death  on  either  hand  beholding, 

'T  was  not  strange  that  she  for  life  besought ; 

Life  for  her  meant  love  and  joy's  enfolding, 
Death  the  bringing  of  her  youth  to  naught! 

4  4  Pray,"  she  whispered,  "  pray  I  may  recover ! " 
Life  to  her  was  everything  most  kind ; 

Earth  one  rose,  and  every  friend  a  lover ; 
She  too  young  or  thorn  or  flaw  to  find. 

So  he  prayed,  as  saints  pray,  gently  pleading, 
Seeing  on  her  brow  the  signs  of  death ; 

For  her  endless  welfare  interceding 

While  he  begged  for  her  this  mortal  breath. 

As  God's  priest,  his  holy  mission  ended, 
Prom  that  bed  he  turned  with  tears  away ; 

Through  the  stifling  streets  unconscious  wended, 
Save  that  something  seemed  his  steps  to  stay. 

Could  he  do  no  more  to  bless  or  cheer  her, 
No  small  thing  upon  the  earthly  side, 

Just  to  bring  his  heart  to  her  heart  nearer 
While  she  lingered  —  lingered,  though  denied ! 

Pleasant  Nature's  vintage  to  the  taste  is, 
Sweet  the  fruit  of  orchard  or  of  vine ; 

Hasting  with  such  haste  as  sorrow's  haste  is, 
Bought  he  luscious  pear  and  peach  and  wine. 


32  AN  ALMONER   OF  CHRIST. 

"  Just  (within  himself  he  said)  in  token 
That  my  thoughts   are  with  her   night  and 
day  ! " 

All  that  bit  of  money  quite  unbroken 
Spent  he  for  the  child  who  dying  lay. 

Homeward    then    he    sped,    but   ithoughtless 
thrusting 

In  his  breast  his  hand,  what  did  he  find  ?  — 
He,  who  ever  giving,  ever  trusting, 

Saw  the  light  where  lesser  souls  are  blind  ! 

Lo !  his  bit  of  money,  spent,  returned  him  ! 

Could  it  be  ?    Ah,  no  !  he  failed  to  pay ! 
Back  he  went  —  what  though  the  hot  sun  burned 
him, 

And  had  smitten  strong  men  down  that  day ! 

Vendor,  chemist,  back  to  each  he  hasted, 
For  each  purchase  fain  would  pay  anew ; 

"  Nay,  you  paid !  you  paid  !  "  they  each  pro- 
tested, 
"  I  'in  not  one  who  '11  take  what  is  not  due !  " 

' '  Did  I  pay  ?  "  the  good  priest  answered,  trem- 
bling, 

All  his  soul  within  him  strangely  stirred ; 
Then,  as  if  unawed,  his  awe  dissembling, 

Dared  he  say  to  them  no  further  word ! 


AN  ALMONER  OF  CHRIST.  33 

'T  was  his  last,  that  bit  of  money  ;  knowing 
This,  he  knew  that  it  had  been  restored ; 

And  between  a  guard  of  angels  going 

He  with  them  could  only  praise  the  Lord ! 


FAITH. 

~\AEK  as  a  dungeon  my  chamber 
^-^     As,  rising,  I  grope  my  way 
Step  by  step  to  the  window- 
That  faces  the  far-off  day. 

So  black  is  the  night  that  I  see  not 

Even  the  window  bars, 
Nor,  straining  my  vision  upward, 

The  palest  glimmer  of  stars. 

No  faintest  breath  in  the  branches 
Buried  in  caverns  of  gloom ; 

Even  the  rote  of  the  ocean 
Is  hushed  as  the  coming  of  doom. 

Nothingness,  nothingness  reigneth 
Above  me,  beneath  and  around ; 

A  limitless  realm  of  blackness, 
A  fathomless  absence  of  sound. 

Unreal,  untenable  seemeth 
Even  the  spot  where  I  stand ; 

Lifting  in  trial  before  me 
My  undiscernible  hand. 


FAITH.  35 

And  yet,  bewildered  and  baffled, 

One  consciousness  keepeth  its  sway ; 

I  know,  I  am  sure  that  my  window 
Faces  the  far-off  day ! 


IX  PAKADISE. 

(~\  MY  beloved  ones, 
^-^     How  long  did  I  lament 
When  "  through,  the  grave  and  gate  of  death  " 
Out  of  this  world  you  went ! 

And  still  from  sun  to  sun, 

Prom  solemn  eve  to  eve, 
How  often  I  lament  anew 

Arid  for  your  presence  grieve! 

How  often  little  things 

Will  your  dear  ways  recall, 
And  bring  a  mist  before  my  eyes, 

A  shadow  over  all ! 

And  though  I  sometimes  think 

You  may  be  very  near, 
It  does  not  still  the  inward  cry, 
If  only  they  were  here  t " 


a 


Yet  there  are  other  times, 
Dark  in  themselves  't  is  true, 

When  I  am  filled  with  thankfulness, 
Beloved  ones,  for  you. 
36 


7iV  PARADISE.  37 

When  some  sharp  trial  comes, 

When  cruel  things  befall, 
Hardships  and  disappointed  hopes  — 

You  have  escaped  from  all. 

You  have  escaped  from  all ! 

I  say  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
With  thankfulness  in  your  behalf 

Impossible  of  yore. 

Sin  is  for  you  o'erpast, 

The  needless  fret,  the  strife, 
The  failure  and  the  weariness 

That  crush  this  mortal  life. 

A  flood  of  joy  flows  in 

That  drowns  the  sense  of  grief, 
As  the  fair  vision  of  your  peace 

Comes  to  my  glad  belief. 

I  cease  to  wish  you  here  ; 

Lead  them,  dear  Lord,  I  say, 
Prom  blessedness  to  blessedness 

On  their  immortal  way. 


THE  MAGNIFICAT. 

OVELY  was  Eve  in  sinless  Paradise 
■*— '    When  God  beheld  her  with  approving  eyes ; 
But  of  transcendent  loveliness  was  she 
Whose  will  His  will  reflected  perfectly. 

In  her  pure  breast,  retrieving  our  estate, 
Another  Paradise  did  He  create  ; 
And  more  than  primal  Fatherhood  again 
Through  Blessed  Mary's  Son  bestow  on  men. 

What  wonder  that  she  sang  the  matchless  Song 
That  ages  have  prolonged  and  shall  prolong 
Henceforth  her  matchless  honor  to  proclaim, 
And  men  exalt  her  Ever- Virgin  Name  ! 

From  day  to  day  with  every  day's  decline 
The  Church  repeats  that  Canticle  divine, 
With  countless  tongues  in  glorious  accord, — 
The  Song  of  Mary,  Mother  of  Our  Lord ! 

38 


THE   HOUSE   OF   GOD. 

/"PHE  Lord's  own  Temple  !  in  His  Holy  Name 
-■*       What   reverent    steps   its  very   pavements 

claim  ! 
Oh,  enter  softly  !     He  who  here  abides 
Erom  mortal  eyes  His  form,  His  glory  hides ; 
Yet  all  around  in  all  these  fair  designs 
His  Name  is  written  in  mysterious  lines, 
And  everywhere  the  sacred  symbols  speak 
Of  Him  whom  all  may  find  who  truly  seek. 
Here  human  art  attains  its  loftiest  reach, 
Eternal  truths  to  shadow  forth  and  teach  ; 
And  beauty  here  in  sweet  constraint  doth  dwell, 
Where  every  color  teaches  truth  as  well ; 
And  even  the  unlettered  here  may  learn, 
Led  by  Devotion's  hand  at  every  turn. 

These  steadfast  stones  the  "living  stones"  declare 
Whereof  is  built  a  temple  far  more  fair, 
Whose   corner-stone  is   Christ ;    whose   piers   un- 
seen, 
The  same  to-day  as  they  have  ever  been, 
Are  Prophets  and  Apostles,  —  noble  line, 
The  Church's  firm  foundations  to  define ! 

39 


40  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

Within  these  walls   what  peace!    (Christ  is  our 

Peace  !) 
What  silence  reigns  where  earthly  noises  cease ! 
Silence  wherethrough  we  almost  hear  the  sound 
Of  angels  thronging  all  the  sacred  ground. 

Here  at  the  portal  pause  and  reverent  gaze  : 
A  holy  order  all  the  place  displays. 
'The  triple  length,  the  triple  breadth  and  height 
Proclaim  one  mystery  to  the  wondering  sight, 
That,  scaling  pillar,  arch,  and  window  fair, 
Seeks  the  vast  roof  to  find  the  One  God  there  ; 
Then  from  that  lofty  height  in  awe  descends 
To  mark  how  majesty  with  mercy  blends  ; 
In  nave  and  choir  and  transept  arms  stretched  wide, 
Behold  the  symbol  of  the  Crucified  ; 
And  in  the  kneeling  throng,  in  mystery, 
His  Body  one  with  Him  its  Head  on  high, 
Sharing  His  Cross  to  share  at  last  His  Crown,  — 
The  Life  He  won  for  us  through  life  laid  down. 

See,  many-hued  and  glorious  the  beams 
Of  heavenly  light  that  on  the  darkness  streams, 
Reveals  the  blazoned  pane,  and  lends  a  glow 
To  recess  dim  and  shadowed  aisle  below ; 
An  ever-shifting,  never-changing  flood, 
To  touch  our  every  sense,  our  every  mood ; 
As  the  sweet  Gospel  answers  every  need 
And  on  our  darkness  pours  the  light  indeed ! 


THE  HOUSE    OF  GOD.  41 

Here  stands  the  Font,  placed  just  within  the  door, 
To  say  to  all  who  pass  the  threshold  o'er : 
Ye  who  the  Church  of  God  would  enter,  know 
One  only  way  our  Saviour  Christ  did  show  — 
By  holy  baptism ;  this  the  lowly  gate 
For  helpless  infancy  and  man's  estate  ; 
For  since  God's  grace  alone  can  lead  them  in, 
Wisdom  and  age  like  babes  must  entrance  win. 
Here  stands  the  Font,  and  here  the  Heavenly  Dove, 
Its  depths  to  sanctify,  on  wings  of  love 
Hovers  unseen.     Beneath  this  cleansing  wave 
Doth  God  regenerate  whom  He  would  save  ; 
Through  this  fair  tide  He  calleth  all  to  pass 
Into  His  Kingdom  ;  this  the  sea  of  glass 
Before  His  altar-throne  that  far  away 
Beyond  the  nave,  the  choir,  in  fair  array, 
Within  the  rood-screen  lifts  its  gleaming  height, 
And  floods  the  space  around  with  sacred  light, 
As  the  White  Throne  and  He  who  sits  thereon 
Fill  Heaven  with  majesty  above  the  sun. 
And  like  the  rainbow  round  the  Throne  appear 
The  changing  colors  of  the  Christian  year 
As  all  the  holy  seasons  come  and  go, 
And  o'er  the  Altar  hues  symbolic  throw. 
Eastward  the  nave  extending  mutely  saith : 
Lo,  there  He  rose  triumphant  over  death ; 
The  Light  of  Light,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
Whom  nations  long  in  darkness  hid  confess. 
Thence  He  with  all  His  angels  shall  descend 


42  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

In  the  Great  Day  when  time  itself  shall  end ! 
Ever  through  solemn  fast  and  gladsome  feast 
The  Church  expectant  worships  toward  the  east, 
In  prayers  and  praises  mingling  joy  and  dread 
Of  Him  who  comes  to  judge  both  quick  and  dead, 
"Who  doth  a  place  beside  His  Throne  prepare 
For  her,  His  Bride,  to  be  exalted  there, 
And  keeps  with  her  meanwhile  His  awful  tryst 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Eucharist. 
The  steps  from  nave  to  choir  that  upward  lead 
Teach  us  humility,  and  bid  us  heed 
How  we  regard  the  Heaven-appointed  priest 
Who  at  the  altar  serves ;  though  he  be  least 
'Mong  men,  he  standeth  in  the  Lord's  own  stead 
When  in  His  Name  he  breaks  the  holy  Bread, 
And  with  the  Hidden  Manna  duly  feeds 
The  hungry  flock  that  follows  where  he  leads. 
Yea,  in  the  Name  and  Person  of  the  Lord 
He  breaks  the  Bread  and  he  proclaims  the  Word  ; 
'T  is  from  his  hand  the  stream  Baptismal  flows, 
Pardon  he  speaks  and  peace,  Christ's  peace,  be- 
stows. 

Within  the  choir  mark  first  the  lectern  stand, 
The  stalls  and  prayer-desks  ranged  on  either  hand  ; 
Here  lies  the  Holy  Book  whose  mysteries 
Are  sealed  to  many  a  scholar  great  and  wise, 
But  to  the  children  of  the  Kingdom  yield 


THE  HOUSE    OF  GOB.  43 

The  priceless  treasures  even  on  earth  revealed. 

Fair  and  more  fair  behold  the  place  appear 

As  to  the  holiest  our  feet  draw  near ; 

Each  least  detail  how  beautiful  to  trace, 

And  learn  the  moulding  touch  of  Heavenly  grace. 

As  unto  Christ  both  Priest  and  Sacrifice 

The  earth's  wide  ends  must  turn  their  countless 

eyes, 
So  on  the  altar  all  the  temple  waits  ; 
Here  vision  centres,  worship  culminates. 
To  this  His  shrine  the  Church  adoring  brings 
Her  richest  gifts,  her  choicest  offerings ; 
Her  tribute  gold,  her  myrrh  of  penitence, 
And  in  her  praise  the  precious  frankincense. 
And  ever  on  "  the  altar  trimmed  aright  " 
She  tends  with  loving  care  each  typic  light, 
The  God,  the  Man,  unceasing  to  proclaim, 
While  the  mid-cross  declares  His  saving  Name. 
O  House  of  God  !  thy  beauty  half  untold 
Is  lost  to  many  an  eye  that  might  behold, 
"While  many  a  tongue  complains,  "  This  might  be 

sold 
And  given  to  the  poor  ; "  and  men  forget 
How  like  complaint  by  Christ  Himself  was  met, 
And  fail  to  mark  how  they  who  fairest  make 
His  temple,  love  His  poor  for  Jesus'  sake, 
In  proof  whereof  they  consecrate  with  care 
Their  gifts  to  them  upon  His  altar  fair, 
That  they  with  Him  and  He  with  them  may  share. 


44  TEE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

Jesus,  who  hadst  not  where  to  lay  Thy  Head 
When  Thou  the  pathways  of  Thy  poor  didst  tread, 
Too  mean  for  Thee  the  temples  that  we  raise, 
Though  echoing  to  centuries  of  praise  ! 


lJ 


"ASTIMA   CHKISTI." 

A   PARAPHRASE. 

OOUL  of  Christ,  unscathed  by  sin, 

v-^     Touch  me;  make  me  white  within! 

Sacred  Body,  mangled,  slain, 

Save  me  ;  suffer  not  in  vain  ! 

Blood  of  Christ,  my  "  drink  indeed," 

Stay  me ;  on  thy  strength  I  feed  ! 

Water  from  that  riven  side, 

Wash  me  ;  wash  me,  cleansing  tide ! 

Holy  wounds,  my  entrance  win ; 

Sweetest  place  to  hide  me  in  ! 

Broken  heart,  my  fortress  be 

When  the  foe  oppresseth  me  ! 

When  at  last  I  yield  my  breath, 

Jesus,  bid  me  rise  from  death ! 

With  Thy  saints,  a  countless  throng, 

Let  me  sing  the  endless  song ; 

Ever  and  forevermore 

Love  and  laud  Thee  and  adore ! 


45 


"I  WILL  NEVER  LEAVE   THEE,   NOR 
FORSAKE   THEE." 


T  T  OW  patient  art  Thou,  dearest  Lord, 

And  how  perverse  am  I ! 
Still  day  by  day  some  other  way 
To  win  me  Thou  dost  try. 

Now  under  skies  serenely  bright 

Thou  leadest  me  along, 
No  cloud  of  ill  my  hopes  to  chill 

Or  turn  to  sighs  my  song. 

And  now  Thou  sufferest  cruel  storms, 

Misfortune's  bitter  blast, 
To  lay  me  low  that  I  may  know 

Thy  shelter  o'er  me  cast. 

To-day  companionships  most  sweet 

To  every  hour  give  wings, 
And  morn  and  eve  such  visions  weave 

As  shadow  Heavenly  things. 
46 


"I  WILL  NEVER  LEAVE    TBEE."  47 

The  visions  fade  ;  bereft,  cast  down, 

As  in  some  desert  waste 
Thou  leavest  me  that  unto  Thee 

My  lonely  heart  may  haste. 

The  awful  consciousness  of  sin 

Thou  makest  me  to  feel, 
The  sickness  dread  of  heart  and  head 

That  only  Thou  canst  heal. 

Thou  dost  oppress  me  till  I  fall 

Repentant  at  Thy  feet, 
That  on  Thy  breast  I  may  find  rest 

As  undeserved  as  sweet. 

Again,  to  meditation's  shade 

Thou  lurest  me  aside, 
And  truths  wouldst  teach  beyond  the  reach 

Of  any  human  guide,  — 

Soft  whispers  of  the  Spirit's  lore 

Whose  wisdom  saints  attain  ; 
But  soon  I  say,  "  Some  other  day  !  " 

And  turn  to  what  seems  plain. 

How  faithful  art  Thou,  dearest  Lord, 

But  oh,  how  faithless  I, 
That  o'er  and  o'er  and  more  and  more 

Thy  faithfulness  I  try  ! 


48  "/  WILL  NEVER  LEAVE   THEE." 

Oh,  were  Thy  sweet  commandments  writ 

In  this  inconstant  heart, 
It  could  not  be  that  I  from  Thee 

Should  ever  walk  apart ! 

That  I  should  leave  the  only  Friend 

Who  will  not  me  forsake, 
But  still  doth  plead,  and  plead,  and  plead, 

As  one  whose  heart  must  break  ! 

Strive  with  me  still,  0  Love  Supreme ; 

Supremest  Patience,  strive  ! 
Thou  hast  restored  the  lost,  dear  Lord, 

Hast  made  the  dead  alive ; 

And  nothing  is  impossible 

To  Thy  Almightiness 
Whose  glory  found  its  boundless  bound 

In  such  divine  redress. 

Thou  sure  must  win  me  in  the  end 

To  Thy  eternal  claim, 
Who  didst  create,  regenerate, 

And  call  me  by  Thy  Name. 

The  day  must  come,  the  blessed  day, 

When  I  updrawn  shall  be, 
And  on  the  Cross  count  all  things  loss, 

And  dying  live  to  Thee  ! 


QUICKEN   THOU  ME. 

HPHE  thorn  is  budding  into  life  again, 
■*■       The  quickened  vine  puts  out  its  tender  shoots, 
The  warm,  warm  sunshine  and  the  cool,  cool  rain 
Feeding  their  hidden  roots. 

Sweet  Spirit,  entering  where  no  eye  can  see, 

Reach  this  poor  heart  in  all  its  waiting  need, 
And  like  the  thorn  and  vine  niy  life  shall  be 
When  Thou  its  roots  dost  feed. 

49 


A  HYMN   OF  ADORATION. 

JESUS,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
High  and  lowly  Son ; 
Son  of  blessed  Mary 

And  of  God  in  one  j 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Hail,  0  Son ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Living  Bread  Divine, 

Feast  for  holy  hunger, 
Be  that  hunger  mine ; 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Bread  Divine ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Fount  forever  rilled, 

In  Thy  streams  of  mercy 
Shall  my  thirst  be  stilled. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Fount  once  tilled ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Spotless  Lamb  once  slain, 

Yet  for  us  unceasing 

Offered  again  j 
50 


A  HYMN  OF  ADORATION.  51 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 
Lamb  once  slain ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Victim,  Priest,  and  Lord ; 
Endless  satisfaction 

Endlessly  adored ; 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Saviour,  Lord ! 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Name  of  names  most  sweet ; 
Tremble  with  thanksgiving, 

Tongue  that  may  repeat  — 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

Name  most  sweet. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

God  of  God  art  Thou ; 
Low  in  adoration 

At  Thy  Name  we  bow ; 
Jesus,  Jesus,  Jesus, 

God  art  Thou ! 

Father,  Son,  and  Spirit, 

Blessed  Three  in  One 
"Whose  unending  praises 

Never  were  begun ; 
Holy,  Holy,  Holy, 

Three  in  One ! 


MY  FIELD. 

WILL  not  wrong  thee,  0  To-day, 
-*-      With  idle  longing  for  To-morrow  ; 
But  patient  plough  my  field  and  sow 
The  seed  of  faith  in  every  furrow. 

Enough  for  me  the  loving  light 

That  melts  the  cloud's  repellent  edges ; 

The  still  unfolding,  bud  by  bud, 

Of  God's  most  sweet  and  holy  pledges. 

I  breathe  His  breath ;  my  life  is  His  ; 

The  hand  He  nerves  knows  no  defrauding; 
The  Lord  will  make  this  joyless  waste 

Wave  with  the  wheat  of  His  rewarding. 

Of  His  rewarding!     Yes;  and  yet 
Not  mine  a  single  blade  or  kernel ; 

The  seed  is  His ;  the  quickening  His; 
The  care  unchanging  and  eternal. 

His,  too,  the  harvest  song  shall  be 

When  He  who  blessed  the  barren  furrow 

Shall  thrust  His  shining  sickle  in 
And  reap  my  little  field  To-morrow. 
52 


APPREHENSION. 


P^VEAE,  Lord,  this  day  is  so  unlike 
"*-^     The  day  I  feared  that  it  would  be ! 
I  wonder  much,  I  said  last  night, 
What  it  will  bring  to  me. 

What  does  it  mean,  —  this  haunting  dread  ? 

What  added  sorrows  wait  me  more, 
And  o'er  my  trembling  spirit  spread 

Their  shadows  thus  before  ? 

T  seemed  to  stand  upon  a  brink, 
Yet  could  not  see  the  gulf  below ; 

It  dizzied  me  to  try  to  think, 
As  with  some  coming  blow. 

Dear  hands  I  saw  on  either  side 

Reach  out  as  for  a  final  kiss  ; 
And  clasping  each  o'er  each  I  cried, 

Not  this  one,  Lord  ;  not  this  ! 

I  cannot  bear  one  parting  more  ; 

My  heart  is  at  the  point  to  break ! 
As  if  Thou  didst  not  know  before, 

Dear  Lord,  to  Thee  I  spake. 

53 


54:  APPREHENSION. 

And  then  I  slept,  the  sleep  of  fear, 
And  waked  in  sad  bewilderment ; 

The  day,  the  dreaded  day,  was  here ; 
What  trial  would  be  sent  ? 

Up  to  the  zenith  rose  the  sun, 

And  now  I  watch  its  bright  decline ; 

The  hours  have  passed  me  one  by  one ; 
ISTo  added  griefs  are  mine  ! 

Still  must  I  feel  the  piercing  sword 
Of  what  hath  been  or  yet  may  be ; 

But  from  that  nameless  terror,  Lord, 
At  least  I  am  set  free. 

And  slowly,  slowly,  yet  how  sure, 
Returns  the  restful  consciousness 

That  in  Thy  care  I  am  secure, 
And  chastening,  Thou  dost  bless. 

!Not  more  than  I  can  bear  I  know 
Thou,  dearest  Lord,  on  me  wilt  lay, 

And  I  can  learn  of  Thee  to  go 
Unf earing  on  my  way. 


"GIVE   US   THIS  DAY  OUR  DAILY 
BREAD." 

/^\NE  longing  fills  my  heart  that  else 

^-^      With  earthly  cravings  would  o'erflow ; 

One  pure  desire  within  me  dwells 

Amid  desires  I  would  forego ; 
One  longing  deep  that  day  by  day 
Sweeps  every  lesser  wish  away. 

It  is  not  that  I  choose  no  more 
Between  the  shadow  and  the  sun ; 

That  vanities  no  longer  lure  ; 

That  sweet  and  bitter  are  as  one  \ 

But  that  this  longing  day  by  day 

Sweeps  every  lesser  wish  away. 

If  now  I  triumph,  now  I  fail, 
Or  now  attain  an  inward  peace, 

If  now  temptations  sore  assail, 

All  things  this  longing  but  increase ; 

And  oh !  this  longing  day  by  day 

All  gains,  all  losses  doth  outweigh. 

55 


56        "GIVE  US  THIS  DAY  OUR  DAILY  BREAD." 

It  is  for  Thee,  for  Thee  alone, 

Who  art  beyond  all  language  dear; 

In  life,  in  death,  Thou  only  One 

Who  stoopest  low,  who  drawest  near ; 

For  Thee  I  hunger  day  by  day, 

And  pray  the  more  the  more  I  pray. 

Come,  Daily  Bread  of  gracious  taste ; 

Sweet  Manna  endlessly  supplied ; 
Thou  hidden  Joy  that  cannot  waste ; 

Our  Wayside  Strength,  however  tried ; 
Come,  Blessed  Jesus,  day  by  day, 
Lest  we  should  faint  beside  the  way ! 

Come,  God  and  Saviour,  to  Thine  own ; 

Revealed  to  Faith's  anointed  eyes, 
Make  Thou  Thy  very  Presence  known 

Though  veiled  in  holy  mysteries ; 
And  oh  !  —  the  sum  of  all  I  pray  — 
Sweep  Thou  at  last  the  veil  away ! 


THE  WAY  OF  THORNS. 

'"PHERE  is  but  one  true  way ; 
No  other  choice  be  mine ; 
Lord,  every  path  must  lead  astray 
Save  only  Thine. 

A  straight  and  narrow  road 
Hedged  in  with  thorns  indeed, 

And  every  thorn  most  like  a  goad 
To  bid  me  heed. 


They  wound  my  human  pride, 
They  rend  my  selfishness, 

And  when  I  seek  to  turn  aside, 
How  sharp  they  press ! 

On  every  hand  I  hear 

Alluring  tongues  of  time, 

And  oft  they  win  my  outward  ear 
Like  silver  chime. 

They  call :  "  That  way  forsake  ; 

A  needless  strife  is  thine; 

A  thousand  paths  our  feet  may  take 

And  find  divine." 

57 


58  TEE   WAY   OF  TEORXS. 

But  have  ye  seen  the  end  ? 

I  trembling  answer  back  : 
He  knoweth  all,  my  Lord  and  Friend, 

Who  points  this  track. 

Here  His  Apostles  trod ; 

Here  martyrs  won  their  crown  ; 
Here  every  saint  for  love  of  God 

The  world  laid  down. 

His  own  most  blessed  feet 
This  narrow  pathway  wore, 

And  pangs  no  anguish  can  repeat 
For  us  He  bore. 

All  sorrow,  shame,  and  scorn, 
Death,  very  death  He  knew ; 

From  every  thorn  a  sharper  thorn 
His  pity  drew. 

A  way  of  strife  indeed, 

But  every  step  I  go 
That  pity  to  repentance  leads 

And  keeps  me  low. 

Because  the  way  is  His, 

And  victory  is  sure, 
And  faith  is  more  than  present  bliss, 

I  can  endure. 


0 


THE  MONK  OF  LA  TRAPPE. 

H  what  abounding  grace  ! 


Of  one  we  read 
Whose  piteous  wound  in  lieu  of  speech  did  bleed 
(As  if  even  Nature's  self  for  him  would  plead); 
Who  mid  his  silent  brethren  silent  went 
Two  weary  years  on  prayer  and  labor  bent, 
Unmindful  of  his  misery  so  he  still 
Shaped  every  deed  and  thought  to  God's  dear  will; 
Nor  heeded  he  his  bed  of  knotted  straw 
Whose  vigils  sore  the  Master  only  saw ; 
Nor  looked  forward  to  the  ashen  heap 
Whereon  the  dying  brethren  fell  on  sleep 
(Acquainting  them  or  ere  they  joined  the  dead 
With  the  poor  kindred  dust  whereto  they  sped)  ; 
Nor  fastings  long,  nor  penance  he  relaxed ; 
Nor  less  the  body  for  the  body  taxed ; 
Nor  changed  a  whit  the  posture,  or  the  face 
That  shone  with  calm  while  grew  his  woe  apace. 
Vain,  vain  the  body's  strife  to  turn  aside 
The  purpose  of  the  spirit  sanctified ! 
In  snatch  of  wretched  sleep  his  chastened  will 

59 


60  THE  MONK   OF  LA    TRAPPE. 

Restrained  the  groan,  o'ercame  the  anguish,  still ; 
And  if  perchance  that  sleep  his  lips  unsealed, 
Their  words  of  peace  his  sharpest  pangs  concealed. 

But  when  the  oozing  blood  for  him  complained, 
And  half-betrayed  his  woe  the  raiment  stained, 
The  quick-eyed  abbot  bade  the  surgeon  speed 
Whose  skilful  hand  might  serve  his  piteous  need. 
Compassionate  the  sufferer  they  bound, 
While  wept  the  mute  attendants  standing  round 
As  the  bared  back  disclosed  the  blackening  wound. 
"Thus  bind  him  fast !"  the  surgeon  whispered  low ; 
"  Not  else  might  he  endure  the  mortal  woe ! " 
While  they  through  tears  beheld  the  fearful  sight 
The  poor  monk  raised  a  face  of  saintly  light ; 
"  Not  of  myself,"  he  said,  "  but  God  is  here 
To  hold  me  that  I  neither  shrink  nor  fear." 
Then  even  as  Death's  own  shadow  in  the  cell 
On  him,  on  all,  the  wonted  silence  fell ; 
Only  a  dripping  on  the  floor  of  brick 
As  the  sharp  knife  swift  pierced  to  the  quick : 
No  shudder  felt,  no  moan  repressed,  betrayed 
The  spirit  fainting  or  the  flesh  afraid. 
"  O  holy  father,  he  must  speak  or  die  ! 
Command  these  lips  to  utter  forth  their  cry ! " 
Implored  the  surgeon,  with  a  whitening  cheek. 
"  Speak,  0  my  brother,  speak!  I  bid  thee  speak  !  n 
With  streaming  eyes  the  pitying  abbot  said, 
As  it  were  his  own  quivering  flesh  that  bled ! 


THE  MONK   OF  LA   TRAPPE.  61 

The  ashen  lips  almost  a  smile  entranced, 
And  from  the  eye  unearthly  rapture  glanced, 
As  his  uplifted  face  like  Stephen's  glowed, 
And  from  his  tongue  a  heavenly  utterance  flowed : 

"  My  Lord !  my  Lord !  that  Thou  shouldst  raise 

me  up, 
And  suffer  me  to  taste  Thy  measureless  cup 
Of  agony,  and  in  some  poor  degree 
Learn  how  all-measureless  Thy  Love  must  be ! 
0  wondrous  riches  by  the  poorest  gained  ! 
0  heights  no  rapture  ever  yet  attained  ! 
O  depths  beyond  all  human  thought  to  reach  ! 
Love  passing  knowledge  as  it  passeth  speech  ! 
That  I  should  see  the  glory  of  Thy  Face 
While  yet  vile  clay  in  this  despised  place  ! 
0  all-transcending  Love  !  0  matchless  grace  ! 
Thrice-blest  this  tongue  that  may  forego  its  spell 
Not  of  these  pangs  but  of  that  Love  to  tell !  " 

Even  as  he  spake  back  in  their  arms  he  fell, 
And  Death's  own  radiance  filled  the  narrow  cell ! 


HIS   PEACE. 

T  ~K  THEN  day  and  its  cares  are  over 

"  *        I  draw  my  chamber  blind, 
And  under  the  night's  sweet  cover 
All  manner  of  comfort  find. 

Like  doves  to  their  windows  flying 
My  thoughts  from  their  daily  quest 

At  the  call  of  my  heart  replying 
Return  to  their  nightly  rest. 

And  folding  them  all  together 
I  hide  them  away  from  sight, 

Their  wanderings  hither  and  thither 
Eorgot  in  the  quiet  of  night. 

One,  only  one  thought  remaineth ; 

It  is  born  not  of  nature  but  grace, 
And  upward  the  flight  it  taketh 

Beyond  the  limits  of  space  : 

He  only  who  changes  never, 

Can  choose  for  my  soul  the  best ; 

Can  quicken  and  crown  the  endeavor,  ■ 
He  only  can  give  me  rest. 

62 


HIS  PEACE.  63 

How  mighty  He  is,  I  remember ; 

How  measureless  is  His  Love  ; 
And  how  in  the  heart's  hushed  chamber 

His  Peace  may  abide  as  a  dove. 


THE   BEIDE    OF   CHEIST. 

"DE  patient ;  bid  His  time  who  will  not  tarry ; 
-*-^     A  thousand  years  He  measures  as  a  day ; 
All  human  plans,  since  human,  may  miscarry  ; 
His  never  !    Keep   His   counsel ;   watch  and 
pray. 
"Put  up  thy  sword,"  He  saith, 
"  Be  faithful  unto  death." 

Still  keep  with  Him  the  vigil  ever  lonely, 

And  wait  on  Him,  for  this  is  fullest  prayer. 
Though  thine  may  be  no  conscious  service,  only 
Abide  in  Him  and  so  His  victory  share. 
The  work  by  Him  begun, 
Shall  it  be  left  undone  ? 

Since  the  first  saints  embraced  His  Cross  and 
dying 
No  earthly  triumph  saw,  yet  were  content, 
On  His  dear  Presence,  though  unseen,  relying 
His  Holy  Church   has  walked   the  way  He 
went; 
Afflicted,  destitute, 
And  sore  from  head  to  foot. 

64 


THE  BRIDE  OF   CHRIST.  65 

Betrayed  by  those  in  her  dear  bosom  nourished, 

Assailed  by  heresies  and  often  sold, 
Her  head  discrowned  while  many  scoffers  flour- 
ished, 
And  yet  her  foes  so  ready  to  enfold  — 
Pardon  her  message  still 
For  all  repented  ill ! 

As  one  whose  place  is  at  her  footstool  lowly 

Fed  by  her  hand  and  by  her  comforted, 
Hear  her  entreat  thee  to  obedience  holy, 

Bidding  thee  watch  and  pray,  as  He  hath  said, 
While  she  through  suffering 
Is  fashioned  like  her  King. 

Thou  yet  shalt  see  her,  all  her  trials  ended, 

Robed  as  in  garments  woven  white  of  flame, 
When  He  by  thousand  thousand  saints  attended, 
Their  lifted  foreheads  burning  with  His  Name, 
Shall  come  to  claim  the  rest 
Who  wait  His  Advent  blest. 

She  will  be  glorious;  neither  spot  nor  wrinkle 

To  mar  the  beauty  of  her  holiness  • 
And  all  the  nations  that  His  blood  shall  sprinkle 
The  Bride  and  Bridegroom  shall  alike  confess  j 
Forever  One  the  Twain, 
Forever  more  their  Reign ! 


66  THE  BRIDE   OF  CHRIST. 

Oh,  worth  the  travail  of  a  life  expended 

By  all  her  countless  children  multiplied, 
"When  we  shall  see  in  her  all  sorrows  ended 
And  love  and  joy  and  peace  on  every  side ; 
All  lives  complete  in  One ; 
His  Will  forever  done ! 


"IT  IS  I." 

"TTis  so  hard!"  I  said, 

-*"     And  sat  within  and  told  my  troubles  o'er ; 

A  hand  fell  softly  on  my  bowed  head, 
Yet  no  one  passed  my  door. 

"  A  fancy  ! "  then  I  said ; 
"  But  oh  !  to  feel  that  touch  forevermore ! 

Methinks,  indeed,  I  could  be  comforted ! n 
And  sorrowed  as  before. 

"  No  other  heart  can  know ! M 
Brake  out  my  grief  again  with  bitter  cry ; 

"  And  God  is  far  —  so  far  my  faith  lets  go 
Her  hold  on  Heaven  to  die  ! " 

Then  some  one  stooped  low, 

His  heart  full-throbbing,  as  with  tears,  close  by : 

"  Lord !  is  it  Thou  so  moved  by  my  woe  ?  n 

He  answered,  "  It  is  I." 

67 


WHEN  I   AWAKE. 

Ps.  xvii.  15. 

WHEN  I  awake  shall  I  Thine  image  bear, 
O  Thou  Adored  ? 
The  image  lost,  in  some  pure  Otherwhere 

Oh,  shall  it  be  restored  ? 
Already  stealeth  o'er  my  trembling  soul 

Some  semblance  sweet,  — 
The  wavering  outline  of  the  perfect  whole 
Thy  Touch  shall  yet  complete  ? 

When  I  awake  shall  I  indeed  cast  by 

All  earthly  taint, 
And  walk  with  Thee  in  white,  Thy  white,  on  high, 

As  seraph  walks  and  saint  ? 
Through  endless,  blessed  ages  shall  I  know 

Thy  Will  alone ; 
Its  all-pervading,  perfect  motions  grow 

More  than  mine  own  mine  own  ? 

The  glories  that  no  vision  can  forestall 

With  crystal  gleam ; 
The  peace,  the  rapture,  and  the  holy  thrall 

Of  Love  that  reigns  supreme ; 

68 


WE  EX  I  AWAKE.  69 

The  death  of  all  that  meaneth  self  and  time ; 

The  gain  of  Thee, 
My  Lord,  my  God  !  the  victory  sublime 

When  only  Thou  shalt  be,  — 

Thou,  all  in  all,  —  all  in  Thy  fulness  lost, 

And  all,  all  found 
Dear  beyond  price,  no  aspiration  crossed ; 

Thou,  only  Thou  our  bound ;  — 
Shall  I  behold,  receive,  possess,  attain 

All  this  and  more 
To  tell  whereof  all  tongues  would  strive  in  vain, 

In  vain  all  language  pour  ? 

Shall  the  Great  Vision  that  transcends  our  dreams 

At  last  unfold  ? 
Thy  Face,  Thy  Glory  whence  all  glory  streams 

Shall  I  indeed  behold 
When  I  awake  ?     Oh  can  it  ever  be, 

All  joys  beside, 
That  I  shall  gaze  and  gaze,  my  God,  on  Thee  ? 

I  shall  be  satisfied. 


ANXIETY. 


T^AINT  hearts,  who  toil  and  pray,  but  doubt 
•*■  If  God  will  grant ! 

Theirs  is  the  harvest  who  in  trust 

Do  sow  and  plant, 
Nor  ponder  whether  it  will  be 

Or  full  or  scant. 


If  once  it  fail,  with  diligence 

They  sow  again; 
Another  year  will  surely  bring 

The  needed  rain, 
The  needed  sun,  to  fill  the  fields 

With  fuller  grain ! 

The  Lord  of  love  may  hear  as  though 

He  heard  us  not, 
But  never  yet  the  prayer  of  faith 

Hath  He  forgot ; 
Some  day  His  word  will  fruitful  make 

Each  waiting  spot. 

We  rise  betimes,  as  if  our  zeal 

That  word  could  speed  ; 
We  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness, 
70 


ANXIETY.  71 

That  cannot  feed ; 

Delaying  rest,  we  only  add 

Sore  need  to  need. 

Oh,  happy  they  who  quietly 

Anticipate 
The  blessing  He  will  shower  down, 

Or  soon  or  late  I 
They  toil,  they  pray,  aright ;  their  faith 

His  will  can  wait. 


THE  PERFECT  FRIEND. 

ONE  only  friend  we  have 
Accounted  sure ; 
One  only  love  is  ours 
That  will  endure. 

All  other  friends  are  dear ; 

He  knows  how  dear 
Who  gave  them  for  our  joy 

And  solace  here. 

All  other  loves  are  sweet ; 

He  knows  how  sweet 
Of  whom,  sad  souls  that  lack 

For  love  entreat. 

But  friends  however  true 

This  life  will  test, 
And  they  will  fail  us  oft 

Who  know  us  best. 

And  love  however  strong 

In  time  may  change ; 
Misfortunes  may  divide, 

New  ties  estrange. 

72 


THE  PERFECT  FRIEND.  73 

Sorest  of  all  will  come 

Some  sad  offence  ; 
Mistrust  will  chill,  and  doubt 

Drive  friendship  hence. 

0  slow  of  heart  to  learn 

What  yet  we  own  — 
One  only  perfect  friend 

Hath  any  known. 


"COULD  I  BUT  HAVE  THEE  BACK 
AGAIN." 

/~*  OULD  I  but  have  thee  back  again, 
^-^     Through  days  and  years  to  nurse  and  tend, 
How  blessed  would  it  be  for  me 
Those  days  and  years  to  spend  ! 

What  skill  of  love  and  tenderness 

These  hands,  unneeded  now,  would  learn ; 

How  precious  would  the  burden  be 
Of  care  for  which  I  yearn  ! 

Almost  for  thee  these  feet  would  fly, 

Whose  steps  have  laggard  grown  of  late; 

Thy  hidden  wish  my  heart  would  know 
And  swift  anticipate. 

How  would  my  hardships  be  forgot ; 

How  joy  my  joys  would  multiply, 
And  make  an  Eden  of  the  spot 

Where  thou  didst  live  and  die  ! 

But  0,  dear  heart,  the  wish  forgive  ! 

Forgive,  dear  Lord,  the  thought  profane 
That  would  a  soul  at  rest  recall 

For  such  a  selfish  gain  ! 

74 


"COULD  I  BUT  HAVE   THEE  BACK  AGAIN."   75 

Forgive  the  will  unsanctified 

That  crossing  Thine  my  lot  would  shape, 
And  from  affliction's  discipline 

Ordained  for  me  escape  ! 

0,  not  that  presence,  sweet  and  dear 
Beyond  all  language,  should  I  crave, 

But  rather  grace  my  loss  to  bear 
And  lonely  hours  to  brave. 

Remind  me  ever,  Lord,  how  brief 
The  partings  of  this  life  will  be  ; 

How  close  and  closer  grow  the  bonds 
Of  those  who  live  in  Thee. 

Or  here  or  there  in  Paradise 
The  fold  is  one,  since  it  is  Thine ; 

And  grief  removes  its  boundary 
When  faith  forgets  the  line. 


"HIM  THAT   COMETH  TO   ME   I  WILL 
IN  NO  WISE  CAST  OUT." 

TTEKE,  weary  heart,  at  last  thy  wanderings 
■**  •*•  cease ; 

Thy  long,  sad  quest ; 
Nowhere  beside  is  hope ;  nowhere  is  peace ; 

Nowhere  is  rest. 

O  slow  to  come  to  Him  who  called  and  called 

With  proffers  sweet ! 
While  pride  withheld  thee  and  thy  sin  appalled 

He  did  entreat. 

What  is  thy  shame,  however  great  thy  shame, 

When  thou  dost  think 
That  knowing  all  He  loved  thee  all  the  same ; 

How  couldst  thou  shrink! 

How  couldst  thou  fear !  as  if  He  could  reject 

Who  came  to  save ! 

To  give  thee  spite  of  guilt  and  long  neglect 

What  thou  didst  crave  — 
.78 


"HIM   THAT  COMETH  TO  ME."  77 

The  sense  of  pardon  filling  all  the  soul 

Washed  clean  at  last ; 
The  grace  that  follows  with  its  sweet  control  j 

The  shame  o'erpast ! 

To  win  thee  sorrowing  to  His  glad  embrace 

How  hath  He  striven  ! 
Oh,  hear  His  Voice  —  couldst  thou  but  see  His 
Face  !  — 

Thou  art  forgiven ! 


IN  THE   GARDEN. 


T  N  this  still  garden  in  the  cool  of  day 

I  often  meditate  :  — 
Should  He  who  walked  in  Eden  come  this  way 

And  consecrate 
This  place  of  bloom  with  Presence  passing  fair 
And  robes  that  make  more  sweet  this  summer  air  ! 


Anon  a  Voice  far  off  yet  near  I  catch, 

And  question,  —  Comes  He  now  ? 

The  virgin  lilies  that  for  Him  keep  watch 
Do  lowly  bow, 

And  the  meek  grasses  lowlier  yet  to  greet 

His  soft  approach  and  reverent  kiss  His  feet. 

But  as  for  me  who  cannot  see  Him  pass 
Yet  fain  would  feel  Him  near, 
I  bow  me  lowlier  even  than  the  grass, 

In  love  and  fear  ; 
Ear  lowlier  than  the  lilies  on  their  stem, 
And  through  them  press  to  touch  His  garment's 
hem  ! 

78 


IN   THE   GARDEN.  79 

More  softly  blows  the  summer  wind  to  lift 

His  mantle's  sacred  fold  ; 
Through  all  the  place  sweet  sighs  and  odors  drift 

Like  bliss  half-told  ; 
And  in  the  fading  west  a  single  star 
Trembles  with  rapture  watching  Him  afar ! 

And  oh,  that  I  should  see  that  star  remote 

Yet  His  near  Glory  miss 
Wherein  the  sun  itself  and  stars  do  float 

As  motes,  I  wis  ! 
But  since  no  man  that  Glory  could  abide, 
How  should  I  dare  lament  the  sight  denied ! 

Dark,  hushed   and  dark,   the   garden   round  me 
grows, 

The  folded  flowers  more  sweet ; 
I  hearken  long  to  hear  Him  where  He  goes 

With  noiseless  feet, 
Till  the  familiar  place  seems  sad  and  strange, 
And  Eden  to  Gethsemane  doth  change. 

Through  heavy  silence  falls  the  heavy  dew 
Like  sweat  of  sorrow  wrung, 

As  if  the  bitter  cup  were  filled  anew 
O'er  which  He  hung, 

Whose  Love  all  love  transcending  overcame, 

Por  us  endured  the  Cross,  despised  the  shame  ! 


80  IN   THE   GARDEN. 

Albeit  against  that  Presence  passing  by 
These  mortal  eyes  are  sealed, 

I  see  this  Other,  like  Him,  standing  nigh, 
To  faith  revealed : 

At  His  dear  feet  on  consecrated  sod 

I  cry  like  one  of  old  :  "  My  Lord  —  my  God  ! n 


THE  TWO  CITIES. 

/^N  the  dusky  shores  of  evening  stretched  in 
^-^       shining  peace  it  lies, 

City   built   of    clouds    and   sunshine,    wonder    of 
the  western  skies  ! 

While  I  watch  and  long  for  pinions  thitherward 

to  take  my  flight, 
Slowly  the  aerial  City  fades  and  vanishes  from 

sight. 

Ruby  dome   and  silver   temple,  circling  wall    of 

amethyst, 
Eall  in  silence  leaving  only  purple  ruin  hung  with 

mist. 

Darkness  gathers  eastward,  westward ;    stronger 

waxeth  my  desire 
Reaching  through  celestial   spaces    glittering  as 

with  rain  of  fire, 

To  the  City  set  in  jasper  having  twelve  founda- 
tions fair, 

Flashing  from  their  jewelled  splendor  every  color 
soft  and  rare. 

81 


82  THE    TWO    CITIES. 

Twelve  in  number  are   its   gateways,   numbered 

by  the  Seer  of  old ; 
Every  gate  a  pearl  most  lustrous,  and  its  streets 

are  paved  with  gold. 

In  the  midst  in  dazzling  whiteness  lightens  the 

Eternal  Throne  ; 
Erom  it  flows  the  Living  water ;  round  it  gleams 

an  emerald  zone. 

Luscious  fruits  and  balmy  odors,  healing  leaves 

and  cooling  shade, 
Either  side  the  Life-tree  sheddeth  by  sweet  storms 

of  music  swayed. 

O  thou  grand  untempled  City  seen  by  John  in 

visions  bright, 
Glory-flooded,   needing  neither  sun   by  day  nor 

moon  by  night ; 

Eilled  forever  and  forever  by  the  shining  light  of 

Him 
Who   redeemed   the   world   and    sitteth    throned 

between  the  Seraphim  ! 

Through  thy  lovely  gates  the  nations  of  the  saved 

in  triumph  stream, 
Chanting  praise  above  all   praises,   love  of  love 

their  holy  theme. 


THE   TWO   CITIES.  83 

They  no  more  shall  thirst  or  hunger,  they  no 

more  with  heat  shall  faint ; 
Christ  for  tears  will  give  them  gladness,  blissful 

rest  for  sore  complaint. 

Blessed  they  who  do  His  bidding,  cries  the  Angel 

day  and  night ; 
They  shall  find  abundant  entrance ;   they  shall 

walk  with  Him  in  white. 


"NO   ONE   TAKETH  YOUR  PEACE 
AWAY." 


'  |  KHE  long  week's  close :  how  sweet  and  clear 
■*-    The  curfew  greets  the  tired  world's  ear ! 
u  In  sleep  by  night  and  in  rest  by  day, 
Peace  be  yours  ! n  it  seems  to  say. 


Then  folds  the  world  its  countless  hands ; 
Unheeded  slide  the  drowsy  sands, 
This  last  sweet  night  of  the  rounded  seven 
Falling  noiselessly  out  of  heaven. 

In  depths  of  more  celestial  blue 
The  sacred  morn  unfolds  anew, 
As  if  to  yield  to  the  weary  breast 
Balm  of  beauty  as  well  as  rest. 

How  hushed  !  the  silence-quickened  ear 
Turned  heavenward  can  almost  hear 
The  white  cloud  trail,  and  the  arrow  of  light 
Earthward  speeding  in  golden  flight. 
84 


"NO  ONE  TAKETH  YOUR  PEACE  AWAY."       85 

And  over  all.  compassionate, 
A  tender  Presence  seems  to  wait, 
Beyond  the  cloud,  beyond  the  light, 
Beckoning  upward  from  height  to  height. 

"  In  sleep  by  night  and  in  rest  by  day, 
May  peace  be  yours,"  did  the  curfew  say  ? 
"  I,  only,  can  give  you  peace  !  "  replies 
A  Voice  that  thrilleth  the  boundless  skies. 

Lord  Jesus,  turn  us  from  the  noise 
Of  endless  strivings  and  empty  joys, 
To  find  forever  Thy  one  true  peace, 
Best  from  sorrow,  from  sin  release ! 

Then  will  each  morn  of  the  week-day  year 
The  Lord's  Day  morning  mirror  clear ; 
And  every  night  will  the  curfew  say, 
"  No  one  taketh  your  peace  away." 


THE   WAGING  YEAE. 

HP  HE  year  is  waning,  waning ; 
**•       I  feel  its  close  draw  near ; 
A  murmur  of  complaining 

In  all  earth's  sounds  I  hear, 
That  saith,  The  year  is  waning ; 

And  sighs,  O  waning  year  ! 

All  garnered  is  its  glory, 
Its  fulness  and  its  might ; 

The  ghostly  fields  lie  hoary 
Seen  in  the  early  light ; 

The  threads  of  summer's  story 
Are  lost  to  touch  and  sight. 

But  memories  grow  dearer 
When  falls  the  latest  leaf ; 

And  many  things  grow  clearer 
To  eyes  made  dim  by  grief ; 

And  hidden  things  seem  nearer 
Because  the  days  are  brief. 
86 


THE    WANING   YEAR.  8'< 

The  wealth  we  must  surrender 
Of  leafage,  bloom,  and  light, 

Reveals  the  larger  splendor 
And  grandeur  of  the  night ; 

And  worship  that  we  render 
Seems  more  in  God's  own  sight. 

The  heavens  laid  bare  above  us 

In  majesty  untold, 
Show  forth  how  He  doth  love  us, 

And  would  our  lives  infold ; 
How  the  dear  Lord  would  have  us 

Look  up  to  Him  more  bold  ; 

With  simple,  childlike  boldness, 

That  fears  without  a  fear ; 
Nor  stands  far  off  in  coldness, 

But  draws  unquestioning  near ; 
A  glad,  forgetful  boldness, 

That  saith,  Thy  child  is  here ! 

Oh,  as  the  years  go  by  us, 

As  year  by  year  they  wane, 
And  many  trials  try  us, 

And  everything  is  vain, 
If  God  doth  not  deny  us 

How  can  our  hearts  complain  ! 


88  THE    WANING    YEAR. 

The  fields  will  fade  around  us, 

Our  beauty  go  away  ; 
The  darkness  will  surround  us, 

But,  oh  !  we  need  not  stray ; 
And  nothing  shall  confound  us 

"Who  look  to  Him  alway. 

The  year  is  waning,  waning  ; 

I  feel  its  close  draw  near  ; 
And  through  the  earth's  complaining 

One  blessed  Voice  I  hear. 
0  happy,  peaceful  waning  ! 

How  sweet  the  waning  year ! 


VALE. 


r*  OOD-NIGHT,  0  Earth !  the  nights  are  grow- 
^-*      ing  long ; 

The  days  are  brief  ; 
Life  hath  one  solemn  burden  for  its  song : 

"  As  fades  the  leaf." 


Good-night,  poor  World  !  if  thou  art  full  of  sin 

Why  so  am  I ! 
In  this  proud  heart  to  judge  would  I  begin, 

Nor  self  pass  by. 

Good-night,  my  foe !  not  all  the  wrong  was  thine ; 

My  share  I  own ; 
Eorgive !  —  we,  human,  know  one  word  Divine  j 

The  sun  goes  down. 

Good-night,  good  friend !  though  poor  my  gifts  to 
thee 

I  will  not  fret ; 
The  richer  thou  whose  bounty  is  so  free, 

And  sweet  my  debt. 

89 


90  VALE. 

"No  longer  to  revenge  nor  to  repay 

I  strive  or  seek ; 
Empty  I  came,  must  empty  go  away,  — 

Empty  and  weak. 

As  one  who  wakes  no  more  to  smile  or  weep 

Another  day, 
So  would  I  lay  me  humbly  down  to  sleep 

And  humbly  say : 

Dear  Lord,  who  hadst  not  where  to  lay  Thy  head, 

As  poor  were  I 
Did  not  Thy  mercy  make  for  me  a  bed 

Whereon  to  die. 


OCCASIONAL. 

FEASTS  AND  FASTS  OF  THE  CHURCH, 

ETC. 


THE   NATIVITY. 

"DENEATH  the   dark   expectant   skies,   while 

*~^      crowded  Bethlehem  slept, 

Their  sleeping  flocks  in  quiet  fields  the  faithful 

shepherds  kept, 
When  round  about  them,  suddenly,  there  shone  a 

glorious  light, 
And  in  the  midst  an  Angel  stood,  majestical  and 

bright. 

What  mortal  eye  could  look  undazed !  what  mortal 

ear  could  hear 
The  voice  most  sweet,  most  terrible  in  sweetness, 

without  fear ! 
While  on  the  wide  Judean  hills  the  reverent  winds 

were  stayed, 
Prostrate  the  humble  shepherds  fell,  for  they  were 

sore  afraid. 

"  Eear  not ;  behold,  I  bring  you  joy  ! n  the  Angel 

spake  and  smiled ; 
"To  you  this  day  in  David's  town  is  born  the 

promised  Child ; 

93 


94  THE  NATIVITY. 

A  Saviour,  even  Christ  the  Lord,  and  this  shall  be 

the  sign  — 
Ye  in  a  manger  lowly  laid  shall  find  the  Babe 

Divine." 


And  with  the  Angel,  lo !  a  host  of  shining  ones 

was  seen, 
Chanting,  "All  glory  be  to  God,  as  it  hath  ever 

been ; 
Glory  to  God,  on  earth  be  peace,  and  unto  men 

good-will," 
They  sang,  in  splendor  vanishing,  and  all  grew 

dark  and  still. 


Amazed  the  shepherds  heard,  and  rose  and  made 

with  haste  their  way 
To  where,  within   the   stable  walls,  the  world's 

Redeemer  lay ; 
Nor  wider  space  nor  fairer   place   had  earth   to 

spare  for  Him 
Whose   Throne   from    everlasting   burned,   rayed 

round  with  seraphim. 

While  softly  raining  out  of  heaven,  in  silver 
cadences 

Flowed  down  those  sweet  angelic  strains  pro- 
claiming joy  and  peace ; 


TEE  NATIVITY,  95 

Her  rapture  swelling  into  tears,  the  trembling 
Mother  bent 

Above  her  Child,  her  Holy  One,  in  awe  and  won- 
derment. 


And  if  a  cloud  of  radiance  filled  the  consecrated 

place, 
That  cloud  was  darkness  in  her  eyes,  long-dwelling 

on  His  face ; 
Her  tranced  vision  scarce  withdrawn  when  the 

glad  shepherds  came, 
Beheld  the  Babe  and  glorified  the  One  Eternal 

Name. 


And  was  the  Word,  indeed,  made  flesh  ?  0  Ever- 
lasting Lord ! 

0  Prince  of  Peace  !  0  Mighty  God,  forevermore 
adored  ! 

Who  reckoning  unreckoned  bliss  cast  all  His 
glory  by 

When  from  the  prison-house  of  sin  He  heard  the 
captive  cry ! 

0  Love,  that  no  created  love  can  ever  compre- 
hend, 

Outreaching  life's  dark  uttermost,  bounding  the 
endless  end  j 


96  THE  NATIVITY, 

That  condescended  to  the  low  from  Height  above 

all  height, 
And  bosomed  in  a  blameless  Babe  brought  into 

darkness  light ! 


Wherever  Christmas  bells  shall  chime  and  Christ- 
mas cheer  go  round, 

Be  grateful  joy  —  not  heedless  mirth  —  in  every 
dwelling  found ; 

While  Faith  unveils  her  throbbing  breast  and 
closelier  folds  within 

The  Holy  Child  whose  sinlessness  hath  answered 
once  for  sin. 


The  humblest  home  that  He  may  find,  the  poorest 

heart  of  earth, 
Not  meaner  is  than  Bethlehem's  stall  made  fair 

by  Jesus'  birth ; 
And  light  more  marvellous  shall  stream  into  that 

house  of  clay, 
Abiding  and   abounding   more   unto  the  perfect 

day. 

Comfort    to    answer    all    desire    and    soothe    the 

sharpest  pain, 
A  rest   to   weariness,   and   ease   to   such    as    do 

complain, 


THE  NATIVITY.  97 

Bread  to  the  hungry,  and  to  them  that  thirst  a 

living  well, 
The  Saviour  with  His  neediest  ones  doth  most 

delight  to  dwell. 


He  honoreth  not  the  place  of  pride,  but  seeketh 

lowly  doors, 
And  love,  the  sweet  return  of  love,  is  all  that  He 

implores  ; 
The  love  that  waiting  on  His  word  doth  evermore 

increase, 
And   magnify  in  daily  life  the  angels'   song   of 

peace. 

Wherever  Christmas  greetings  flow  and  Christmas 

cheer  goes  round, 
Let  charity  in  gracious  deeds  and  gracious  thoughts 

abound ; 
And  Zion,  garlanding  her  gates,  put  on  her  glad 

array, 
And  celebrate  with  psalms  of  joy  Emmanuel's  natal 

day. 

O  Christ,  Most  High  !  Incarnate  God  !  Meek  Babe 

*     of  Bethlehem ! 
To  whom  all  angels  cry  aloud,  Thy  glory  shadowing 
them, 


98  THE  NATIVITY. 

Hear,  through  the  praise  of  heaven,  the  praise  of 

Thy  redeemed  earth 
Whose   desert   places   yet   shall    sing  for   joy  of 

Jesus'  birth ! 


"THE  SWEETEST  HYMN  THAT  EVER 
WAS   SUNG." 

'"PHE  sweetest  hymn  that  ever  was  sung 
*■*       Was  the  Hymn  of  the  Christ-Child's  birth, 
When  that  night  of  nights  over  Bethlehem  hung, 

And  angels  came  thronging  to  earth 

To  herald  the  Christ-Child's  birth. 

The  brightest  star  that  ever  was  seen 
Was  the  Star  that  led  the  way 

Eor  the  wise  old  kings  to  the  cradle  mean 
Where  the  Child  Emmanuel  lay,  — 
The  Star  that  showed  them  the  way. 

Still  sweetly  echoes  that  sweetest  Hymn 

Once  sung  in  the  ages  afar, 
And  over  the  wide  earth  altars  gleam 

Enkindled  by  Bethlehem's  Star 

That  led  the  sages  from  far. 

And  the  Christ  who  came  of  old  to  His  own 

As  truly  comes  to  them  now, 
Where  the  faithful  before  His  altar-throne 

With  hearts  believing  bow,  — 

Emmanuel,  then  and  now. 

99 


100  THE  SWEETEST  HYMN. 

0  Son  of  Mary  !  0  Love  Divine ! 

Whom  the  old  kings  hailed  as  King, 
All  praise  be  Thine,  and  the  fairest  shrine, 

And  the  costliest  gifts  we  can  bring 

To  Thee,  Eternity's  King  ! 

The  tribute-gold,  as  it  was  of  old, 
Poured  out,  dear  Lord,  at  Thy  feet, 

And  the  incense  of  worship  that  will  not  grow  cold, 
And  the  myrrh  of  penitence  meet, 
All  cast  with  ourselves  at  Thy  feet ! 


MARY  MOTHER. 

TV /TORE  than  royal  Guest  He  lay 
**•*'*■      Where  the  gentle  kine  made  way 
For  the  Christ-Child  meek  as  they. 

Knelt  the  Magi  round  His  bed, 
Bowed  low  each  proudest  head ; 
Mary  Mother  pondered. 

Gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh 
They  the  wise  and  great  confer ; 
Jesus  mild  looks  up  to  her  ! 

What  her  gift  ?     Than  nothing  less  ! 
Oh  that  she  might  crown  and  bless 
Him  whom  kings  shall  King  confess  ! 

Pierced  as  with  woes  to  come 
At  His  feet  her  soul  lies  dumb, 
Love,  of  all  she  hath,  the  sum ! 

Blessed  among  women,  thou 
Who,  exalted  most,  dost  bow 
Lowliest  among  the  low  ! 

101 


"THIS  IS  THE  TKUE  GOD." 
1  St.  John  v.  20. 

BEHOLD  the  Virgin  bears 
The  Promised  Child ! 
Lulled  on  her  bosom  undefiled, 
The  Wonderful,  the  Counsellor 
Whom  age  on  age  hath  waited  for, 
The  Mighty  God,  the  Father,  shares 
With  us  Humanity ! 
For  love  of  us  stoops  down 
To  our  subjection ; 
Becomes  Emmanuel 
That  we 

Regenerate  in  Him  may  dwell, 
And  share  the  crown 
Of  His  Divinity 
In  resurrection ! 

Behold  Him,  then, 
Children  of  men ! 
Only  a  little  Babe  ye  see 
On  Mary's  knee ; 
But  this  is  He  — 
I  AM  from  all  eternity  ! 
102 


"THIS  IS  TEE  TRUE   GOD:'  103 

Around  Him  angels  bend 

But  cannot  comprehend — 

And  how  can  we !  — 

The  Incarnation's  mystery ; 

The  Love  that  could  not  be  expressed, 

In  Flesh,  our  Flesh,  made  manifest. 


"ENDED   THE  VIGIL   OE   AGES." 

TENDED  the  vigil  of  ages, 
"L- '     Ended  the  Prophets'  line ; 
Eorth  from  the  womh  of  the  Virgin 
Cometh  the  Babe  Divine. 

Out  of  the  highest  Heaven 
Down  to  the  wondering  earth 

Choirs  of  angels  descending 
Carol  the  Christ-Child's  birth. 

One  with  the  Eather  Eternal 

Human  the  Name  that  He  bears ; 

Godhead  and  Manhood  united 

Veiled  in  the  Elesh  that  He  wears. 

This  is  the  King  Immortal 
Nation  by  nation  shall  seek ; 

Never  a  child  so  majestic, 
Never  a  prince  so  meek. 

Clad  in  Humility's  vesture, 
Peace  as  His  sceptre  of  might, 

Monarchs  approaching  His  presence 
Prostrate  shall  fall  at  the  sight. 

104 


ENDED   THE    VIGIL  OF  AGES.  105 

Innocence  wears  He  as  ermine, 

Poverty  maketh  His  crown, 
Love  is  the  throne  of  His  glory, 

Mercy  His  matchless  renown. 

Homeless  and  laid  in  a  manger, 

Seeming  earth's  pity  to  crave, 
Ruleth  He  still  creation, 

Helpless,  is  mighty  to  save. 

Blessed  henceforth  are  the  lowly 

Who  of  His  lowliness  learn ; 
Blessed  who  showeth  His  mercy, 

Reaping  His  mercy  in  turn. 

Blessed  henceforth  who  forsaketh 
Kindred  and  lands  for  His  sake, 

Counting  no  burden  too  grievous 
Jesus  may  call  him  to  take. 

Even  a  cup  of  cold  water 

Unto  His  little  ones  given 
He  shall  return  to  the  giver 

Filled  from  the  fountains  of  Heaven. 

Blessed  the  least  in  His  Kingdom 
More  than  the  Prophets  of  old 

Who  in  the  Babe  of  the  manger 
Saviour,  Jehovah  behold. 


106  ENDED   THE    VIGIL   OF  AGES. 

Fall  at  His  feet,  ye  faithful, 
Worship  the  King  of  Kings ! 

Angels  unnumbered  adore  Him 
Folding  around  you  their  wings. 

Sweeter  and  sweeter  their  carols 
Swelling  with  rapture  arise ; 

Join  in  the  joyful  hosannas 

Circling  the  earth  and  the  skies ! 


CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

O  HAPPY  earth,  whose  darkest  night 
The  angels  flood  with  song  and  light ! 
O  happy  shepherds,  first  to  hear 
The  tidings  meant  for  every  ear ! 
O  happy  night,  0  happy  morn, 
A  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord  is  born ! 

O  happy  heaven,  among  whose  spheres 

The  Christ-Child's  blazing  star  appears  ! 

O  happy  Magi,  from  afar 

Led  by  the  Christ-Child's  blazing  star ! 
O  Bethlehem !  0  spot  most  fair, 
Por  Mary  and  the  Child  are  there ! 

O  Maiden-mother,  Virgin  blest, 
Clasping  the  young  Child  to  thy  breast, 
The  wondering  shepherds  may  adore, 
The  Eastern  kings  their  treasures  pour, 
But  in  thy  heart  the  Babe  Divine 
Hath  fashioned  for  Himself  a  shrine. 

O  happy  souls  that  throng  on  throng 
Make  fair  the  ages  all  along, 

107 


108  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

In  glad  succession  hail  the  star, 
And  catch  and  spread  the  tidings  far, 
And  carol  still  each  Christmas  morn, 
A  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord  is  born ! 

Awake,  awake,  0  sluggard  heart ! 

O  foes,  be  friends,  forget  your  smart ! 

O  cold  hearth,  glow ;  laugh,  lonely  place  ! 

O'erfLow,  0  earth,  with  every  grace  ; 
Sing,  sing  again  this  blessed  morn, 
A  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord  is  born ! 


"THERE  WAS  NO  ROOM  FOR  THEM  IN 

THE  INN." 

HTHOU,  the  Eternal  Son 
■■*      Though  of  Thy  glory  shorn  ; 
Thou,  very  God  of  very  God 
Though  Man  of  Mary  born ;  — 

Is  there  no  room  for  Thee 

Even  in  Bethlehem's  inn  ? 
Dost  Thou  who  comest  to  Thine  own 

Erom  them  no  welcome  win  ? 

Dost  Thou  the  bitter  Cross 

So  eagerly  embrace 
For  us,  and  we  for  thee  prepare 

No  poorest  dwelling-place  ? 

No  room  for  Thee  ?  No  room 

For  love  and  sacrifice 
Such  as  no  mortal  could  conceive 

And  none  but  Thou  devise  ? 

0  sweetest  Jesus,  hear  ! 
Though  I  am  poor  indeed, 

1  know  I  can  provide  a  spot 
To  meet  Thy  lowly  need. 

109 


110      "NO  ROOM  FOR  THEM  IN  THE  INN*1 

Such,  love  as  Thine  must  crave, 

Above  all  other  things, 
The  love  of  those  on  whom  't  is  spent, 

And  all  that  loving  brings. 

For  love  is  shelter,  food, 
A  bed  of  down,  a  throne ; 

Its  very  breath  obedience 
To  him  whom  it  doth  own. 

Come,  sweetest  Jesus,  then, 

In  this  poor  heart  abide  ; 
And  I  shall  love  Thee  more  and  more 

Till  love  is  satisfied. 


HYMN  FOR  GOOD  FRIDAY. 


/^VH  !  see  Him  where  He  hangs, 
^-^      The  world's  one  sacrifice  ; 
No  tongue  of  earth  can  tell  His  pangs, 
Who  our  Redeemer  dies. 

True  God  and  truest  Man, 

In  one  forever  knit ; 
His  anguish  thought  can  never  span, 

For  it  is  infinite. 

In  all  the  universe 

The  central  Figure  He, 
As  weeping  centuries  rehearse 

Time's  crowning  tragedy. 

Again  the  flood  of  scorn, 

The  scourge,  the  crown,  the  jeer, 
The  sacred  body  nailed  and  torn, 

The  taunts,  the  sponge,  the  spear. 

Again  —  0  depth,  0  height 
Of  Love  that  hath  no  name !  — 

The  prayer  for  those  who  in  His  sight 
Could  no  compassion  claim. 

Ill 


112  HYMN  FOR  GOOD  FRIDAY. 

Again  the  rended  rocks, 
The  hearts  of  human  stone, 

The  darkness  and  the  earthquake  shocks, 
The  graves  of  hope  upthrown. 

At  His  dear  feet  again, 

His  Cross  in  her  embrace, 
The  weeping  Church,  like  Magdalen, 

Buries  her  stricken  face. 

Again  the  streaming  side, 

The  broken  heart,  the  cry ! 
Again,  0  Jesus  Crucified, 

The  endless  victory. 


A  MEDITATION. 

r\  MYSTERY  beyond  the  reach 
^-^     Of  all  created  thought  or  speech  !  — 
Concealed  as  man  from  human  eyes 
Our  God  became  our  sacrifice. 

One  life,  decreed  all  lives  to  lift 
In  union  with  its  wondrous  gift, 
Constrained  eternal  love  to  show 
By  bearing  all  their  weight  of  woe. 

Sinless,  as  Chief  Transgressor  He 
Poured  out  His  blood  upon  the  tree, 
While  penitence  and  unbelief 
Reaped  His  compassion  and  His  grief ! 

For  us,  for  us,  true  God,  He  bled 
From  nail-torn  hands  and  thorn-crowned  head ; 
From  spear-rent  heart  —  the  heart  of  God !  — 
From  feet  that  Sorrow's  wine-press  trod. 

Poor  souls,  who  thirst  and  hunger,  see 
Your  hope,  your  help,  in  Calvary ; 
Find  here  the  crown  of  all  your  quest  — 
God's  boundless  love  made  manifest ! 

113 


CALVARY. 

T  X  THAT  does  it  mean,  this  wood 

*  *       So  stained  with  blood  ; 
This  tree  without  a  root 
That  bears  such  fruit ; 
This  tree  without  a  leaf 
So  leaved  with  grief! 

What  does  its  height  proclaim 
Whose  height  is  Shame ; 
Its  piteous  arms  outspread 
Where  death  lies  dead ; 
And  in  the  midst  a  heart 
Cleft  wide  apart ! 

Though  fool,  I  cannot  miss 

Its  meaning,  this : 

My  sin's  stupendous  price ; 

His  sacrifice; 

Where  closest  friendships  end 

One  Friend  —  my  Friend. 

|U4 


THE  RESURRECTION. 

\7"E  who,  clad  in  shining  raiment, 
A        Watch  within  the  empty  tomb 
Where  the  dear  Lord's  sacred  Body 

Lay  in  death  through  yester's  gloom, 
Tell  us,  guests  from  realms  of  glory, 
All  the  Resurrection's  story ! 

How  the  tide  of  life  returning 

Flushed  the  pierced  hands  and  feet ; 

How  the  Heart  so  lately  broken 
Once  again  began  to  beat ; 

How  the  Head  by  thorns  so  wounded 

Victory's  aureole  surrounded ! 

Tell  us,  glorious  one  whose  garment 
Gleameth  whiter  than  the  snow, 

And  whose  countenance  as  lightning 
Laid  the  watch,  like  dead  men,  low ; 

Mightiest  one,  from  Heaven  descended, 

Tell  us  how  the  tomb  was  rended ! 

115 


116  THE  RESURRECTION, 

How  the  seal  secure  was  broken 
Ere  the  dawning  of  the  day; 

How  the  solid  earth  was  shaken 
When  the  stone  was  rolled  away ; 

While  the  world  unconscious  slumbered 

And  the  hours  of  death  were  numbered. 


Tell  —  but  oh,  no  tongue  can  utter 

What  transcendeth  speech  and  thought ! 

Passeth  angels'  comprehension 
How  the  miracle  was  wrought. 

He  was  dead ;  and  lo  !  He  liveth ; 

Yea,  and  Life  Eternal  giveth ! 


Forth  He  came  !  the  Human  Body 
He  for  man  the  fallen  wore, 

And  the  Human  Soul  united, 
Glorified  forevermore ; 

That  in  wondrous  re-creation 

Man  might  share  His  exaltation. 

While  He  fasted  in  the  desert, 
Tempted  long  and  sorely  tried, 

Prayed  in  anguish  in  the  Garden, 
On  the  Cross  in  anguish  died, 

Watching  with  her  Lord  and  weeping, 

Solemn  fast  the  Church  was  keeping. 


THE  RESURRECTION.  117 

Feast  of  Feasts  the  East  succeedeth ! 

Once  again  the  strain  is  poured : 
Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

Glory  to  the  risen  Lord ! 
Song  of  songs,  in  endless  gladness 
Drowning  pain  and  doubt  and  sadness. 

Alleluia  !     "  He  is  risen  ! " 

"  Risen  indeed  ! "  the  shouts  resound. 
Holy  greeting  answers  greeting; 

Joy  at  last  on  earth  is  found. 
Shore  to  shore  the  salutations 
Bind  as  one  redeemed  nations. 

Alleluia !     Choirs  of  angels 

To  the  choirs  of  earth  respond ; 

Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 

E-olleth  seas  and  skies  beyond. 

Heaven  and  earth  at  last  shall  sever, 

But  the  song  shall  peal  forever ! 


"SING  YE  LOWLY,  SING  YE  GKEAT." 

OING  ye  lowly,  sing  ye  great, 
**-*     With  the  Easter  joy  elate ! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed ; 
Crown  of  hope  for  every  need  ! 

Poverty  and  wealth  akin 
In  the  piteous  bond  of  sin, 
Eager  youth  and  anxious  age 
Bound  on  common  pilgrimage ; 

One  and  all  up-lift  the  strain ; 
Christ  our  Saviour  lives  again ; 
Lives  to  set  us  free  once  more ; 
As  we  journey  goes  before. 

All  the  way  He  maketh  bright, 
It  was  dark,  but  He  is  Light ; 
It  was  weary,  He  is  Rest ; 
He  our  End  as  He  our  Quest. 

Wandering  sinner,  striving  saint, 
Prisoner  hopeless  of  complaint, 
Courage  kindles  now  anew; 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  for  you. 

118 


"SING   YE  LOWLY,  SING    YE  GREAT,"    119 

Lift  your  head,  poor  penitent, 
Mercy  is  with  judgment  blent ; 
Christ  is  risen  to  bestow 
Just  the  peace  you  long  to  know.  * 

Mourner  weeping  at  the  tomb, 
See  how  ev'n  the  grave  may  bloom ; 
Where  He  lay  what  hopes  were  sown! 
Make  the  harvest  sweet  your  own. 

For  us  men  a  Man  was  He ; 
Never  friend  so  close  could  be ; 
For  us,  helpless,  He  o'ercame  ; 
We  may  conquer  in  His  Name. 

For  us  mortal  He  Divine, 
Makes  the  way  immortal  shine ; 
With  the  Comforter  bestows 
Grace  no  life  unquickened  knows. 

Death  His  Flesh  could  not  constrain ; 
Lord  of  Life  He  rose  again  ; 
God  of  God  and  Light  of  Light, 
Sing  His  triumph,  sing  His  might ! 


"SUN-DAY    THAT    FILLETH   ALL 
SUNDAYS  WITH  LIGHT." 

r^AY  of  the  crucified  Lord's  Besurrection ; 
"^     Da}'  that  the  Lord  by  His  triumph  hath 

made  ; 
Day  of  th^  seal  of  Redemption's  perfection; 

Day  of  the  crown  of  His  power  displayed; 
Beautiful  Easter,  dazzlingly  bright ; 
Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light ! 

Queen  of  all  festivals  ;  glad  culmination 
Of  the  bright  feasts  that  encircle  the  year ; 

Glimpsing  the  Life,  in  a  transfiguration, 
That  shall  at  length  in  its  glory  appear ; 

Beautiful  Easter  ;  day  in  its  height ; 

Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light! 

Banish  the  gloom  in  the  house  of  the  mourner 
Keeping  the  vigil  that  sorrow  compels ; 

Melt  the  cold  walls  of  that  prison  forlorner 
Where  unbelief  in  its  solitude  dwells; 

Beautiful  Easter,  dazzlingly  bright ; 

Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light ! 
120 


"SUN-DAY."  121 

Pierce  with  thy  rays  those  saddest  of  places, 
Hearts  that  are  darkened  by  sin  or  despair ; 

Stream  o'er  the  earth's  most  desert-like  spaces 
Making  them  blossom  than  Eden  more  fair  j 

Beautiful  Easter,  dazzlingly  bright; 

Sun-Day  that  filleth.  all  Sundays  with  light ! 

Day  of  the  hope  that  is  almost  fruition  ; 

Day  of  Christ's  message  of  "JPeace  "  to  His 
own; 
Day  of  the  pledge  that  His  creatures'  condition 

He  will  transform  to  a  glory  unknown  ; 
Beautiful  Easter,  dazzlingly  bright ; 
Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light ! 

He  who  redeemeth,  consoleth,  forgiveth  ; 

Who  His  own  body  raised  up  from  the  dead ; 
Holdeth  all  evil  in  bondage  and  liveth, 

Source  of  all  blessing,  our  Life  and  our  Head. 
It  is  His  Glory  that  maketh  thee  bright, 
Sun-Day  that  filleth  all  Sundays  with  light! 


THE  TRANSFIGURATION. 

"T^AIR  mount  where  Jesus  knelt  and  prayed, 
**■       What  splendor  crowned  thy  holy  crest 
When  to  His  followers  He  revealed 
The  Godhead  they  by  faith  confessed ! 

Bright  as  the  sun  His  face  they  saw, 

White  as  the  light  His  garments  gleamed  j 

Transfigured  He  transfigured  all 

The  place  whereon  His  radiance  streamed. 

With  earth  so  far  and  heaven  so  near 
What  wonder  they  were  fain  to  stay, 

And  Moses  and  "Elias  came 

By  that  great  vision  rapt  as  they  ! 

What  wonder,  while  with  them  He  spake 
And  overhead  the  cloud  appeared 

And  from  its  glory  came  the  voice, 

That  they  who  heard  it  greatly  feared ! 

The  glory  waned,  the  saints  of  old 

Departed  by  the  ways  unknown, 
And  looking  up  the  prostrate  three 

Beheld  their  blessed  Lord  alone. 

122 


THE   TRANSFIGURATION.  123 

No  more  that  vision  may  return, 

The  cloud  appear,  the  voice  be  heard, 

But  by  that  one  transcendent  scene 
The  heart  of  faith  is  ever  stirred. 

And  though  we  see  Thee  not,  0  Lord, 
Thy  presence  faithful  souls  perceive, 

And  blessed  they,  as  Thou  hast  said, 
Who  have  not  seen  and  yet  believe. 


MISSIONARY  PROCESSIONAL. 

T  T  7IDER  and  wider  yet 

*  "       The  gates  of  the  nation  swing  ; 
Clearer  and  clearer  still 

The  wonderful  prophecies  ring ; 
Go  forth,  ye  host  of  the  Living  God, 

And  conquer  the  world  for  your  King. 

"Go  into  all  the  world," 

For  this  is  the  charge  Divine ; 

Eastward  and  westward  go, 
Uplifting  His  conquering  sign ; 

Go  forth !  the  ends  of  the  earth  are  His  ; 
Press  on  with  unfaltering  line. 

Millions  on  millions  wait 

The  message  ye  have  to  bring ; 

Go,  with  the  Word  of  God, 

Commissioned  by  Jesus  your  Kiug; 

Go  forth,  the  arrows  of  truth  to  speed, 
The  songs  of  deliverance  sing. 

Open  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 

And  give  to  the  heathen  sight ; 
Show  to  the  feet  astray 

124 


MISSIONARY   PROCESSIONAL.  125 

The  path  of  the  children  of  light ; 
Go  forth,  and  gather  the  lost,  and  clothe 
The  penitent  sinner  in  white. 

Grant  them'  the  mystic  birth ; 

The  seal  of  the  Holy  Ghost; 
Give  them  the  Living  Bread, 

The  food  of  God's  militant  host ; 
Go  forth,  bestowing  these  priceless  gifts 

No  bounty  of  monarch  can  boast. 

Heralds  of  Christ,  go  forth, 

And  count  not  your  lives  as  dear ; 

Haste,  for  the  day  draws  on 
When  He  shall  in  glory  appear. 

Go  forth  !  His  promises  cannot  fail ; 
The  conquest  eternal  is  near. 

Wider  and  wider  yet 

The  gates  of  the  nation  swing ; 
Clearer  and  clearer  still 

The  wonderful  prophecies  ring; 
Go  forth,  ye  host  of  the  Living  God, 

And  conquer  the  world  for  your  King ! 


SONNETS. 


TO  JOHN  GREEXLEAF  WHITTIER. 

DUT  for  thy  gracious  words,  revered  of  men, 
•^     Scarce  had  I  ventured  on  from  year  to 
year 

To  seek  the  great  world's  much-engrossed  ear 
"With  the  small  rhythmic  whispers  of  my  pen. 
And  now  to  silence  oft  withdrawing  when 

Thy  songs  so  full  and  sweet,  so  strong  and 
clear, 

And  those  of  others,  nobly  sung,  I  hear, 
I  ask,  Why  do  I  aught  but  listen  ?  Then 
Myself  makes  answer,  Who  hath  given  thee 

This  voice  within  that  thou  art  fain  to  still  ? 
Though  few  and  scarcely  heard  thy  notes  may  be, 

Seek   not,    nor  yet  withhold.     Trust   makes 
amends 
For  Trust  that  waits  unquestioning  G-od's  will, 

Hearing  His  words  above  the  words  of  friends. 

129 


"HE   OPENED  NOT   HIS   MOUTH." 

THJ^  ACH  counts  his  lot  most  grievous  ;  his  distress 
JL-/     Sorer  than  other's ;  each  is  prone  to  harp 
Upon  his  many  trials  (though  he  carp 
At  his  poor  neighbor's  fretting  none  the  less) ; 
For  all  his  wrongs  there  seemeth  small  redress ; 
No  other's  ills  were  ever  quite  so  sharp ; 
Misfortunes  all  his  plans  do  thwart  and  warp ; 
No  loss  his  loss  can  match  ;  no  sorrows  press 
Like  his  !     Ah  !  eighteen  hundred  years  ago 
The  pangs  and  penalties  of  all  mankind 
Through  all  the  groaning  centuries  behind 
And  all  the  wrestling  centuries  to  come 
One  Man  endured,  bound  thrice  ten  years  with  woe, 
Yet  from  the  Manger  to  the  Cross  was  dumb ! 

130 


A  WOODLAND  HOUR. 

'  I  VHE  stillness  of  the  year  in  sweet  decline ! 
A     (Precious  of  all  things  silence  in  its  turn  !) 
?T  is  like  the  loving  rest  for  which  we  yearn 
When  summer  hopes  no  longer  bloom  and  shine. 
In  the  soft  shadow  of  this  changeless  pine 
The  maple  boughs  have  almost  ceased  to  burn. 
How  brown  the  brake !  yet  this  so  delicate  fern 
Is  at  its  greenest.     Feathery  fair  and  fine 
It  waves  and  floats  these  mossy  trunks  between  — 
These  trunks  that  veil  the  axeman's  cruel  scars ; 
(There  are  some  lives  that  no  misfortune  mars !) 
Sweet  day  !    Against  yon  background  dusky  green 
That  slender  birch  in  the  fair  distance  seen 
Shows  like  a  twinkling  cloud  of  yellow  stars. 

131 


"SAVE   THAT   THERE  MAY  BE   ONE 
LOVE-GARNERING  BREAST." 

O  AVE    that    there  may  be  one    love- garnering 
v-^  breast 

Will  hold  us  unforgotten  when  we  die, 
Erom  all  the  paths  that  most  familiar  lie 
We  shall  be  missed  but  few  brief  days  at  best. 
Noteless  as  noiseless  pass  we  to  our  rest ; 
Slip  from  the  ear  and  tongue  as  from  the  eye. 
Earth  knows  no  break,  no  change  to  signify 
Absence  or  loss  ;  and  Time  and  Nature,  lest 
In  our  behalf  remonstrant  they  appear, 
Make  stealthy  haste  to  blur  and  cover  o'er 
The  stone's  laborious  lettering  before 
The  yielding  mound  that  settles  year  by  year 
Is  levelled,  and  the  place  —  our  last  place  here  — 
That  knew  us  once  knows  us  indeed  no  more. 
132 


PEOPHECY. 

/~PHE  glittering  darkness  of  the  perfect  night 
-"-       An  hour  before  the  break  of  perfect  morn, 
When  from  her  slowly-lessening,  beauteous  horn 
The  brilliant  moon  pours  forth  a  splendid  light : 
So  glows  the  radiance  of  inspired  sight, 
Steadfast,  serene,  by  weariness  unworn 
And  clear  of  every  human  doubt  forlorn, 
Keeping  Faith's  vigil  on  imperial  height  — 
While  sleeps  the  world  below,  unconscious,  prone, 
Drunken  with  things  of  self  and  slothful  time  — 
Until  Fulfilment's  flood,  like  morning's  prime, 
Through  wondrous  gates  of  Promise  widely  thrown 
Polls  in  majestical  from  zone  to  zone 
And  merges  Prophecy  in  Light  sublime. 

133 


THE   MORNING  CHAMBER. 


npHIS  flower-like  chamber,  delicately  walled, 
A       Of  softest  tints,  low  ceiled,  wide  and  fair, 
Where  pensive  meditations  seem  installed 

Like  cloistered  nuns  long-motionless  in  prayer; 
This  lovely  chamber,  looking  south  and  east 

Across  green  seas  of  rippling  foliage  dense, 
Whose  waiting  windows  catch  the  first  and  least 

Soft    glimmer    from    that    heavenly    chamber 
whence 
The  sun  rejoicing  cometh ;  this  sweet  room, 

While  folded  yet  in  slumbers  incomplete 
The  whole  fair  house  beside  lies  wrapt  in  gloom ; 

This  morning  chamber,  high  above  the  street, 
Day's  silent  glory  floods  and  overflows 
With  golden  calm  that  crowns  the  night's  repose. 

n. 

High  noon  !  and  fuller  floods  of  sunshine  pour 
Into  this  shining  chamber  till  it  seems  — 
The  very  hidden  rafters,  secret  beams  — 

To  swim  in  splendor  !     I  but  cross  the  floor 

134 


THE  MORNING  CHAMBER.  135 

And  I  forget 't  is  Winter,  keen  as  clear. 
To  the  swift  eyes  of  mine  imagining 
Wide   stand  the  windows,   and   the  breath  of 
Spring, 

Sweet  courier  of  the  violets,  is  here. 

I  half  resolve  to  hie  me  out  and  see 
How  like  a  tiny  army  they  possess 
The  earth  —  the  violets,  with  their  loveliness, 

When,  of  a  sudden,  breaks  my  reverie  ! 

But  the  warm  flood  fills  all  the  chamber  yet, 

And  ere  it  ebbs  I  will  again  forget ! 

III. 

Fair  as  the  peace  that  like  a  river  flows, 

Across  the  room  the  cloudless  moonlight  streams; 
Recess  and  corner  dusk  its  hallowing  beams 
Suffuse  with  mist-like  glimmer  of  repose. 
So  hushed  this  chamber,  and  so  rapt  this  tide 
Of  visible  calm,  that  blessed  visions  rise 
Of  the  Great  City  of  Peace  beyond  the  skies, 
Of  crystal  waters  that  perpetual  glide 
From  out  the  Throne,  swift  light  descending  light 
Forever  and  forever,  with  a  sound 
Of  inconceivable  music  music-drowned 
In  rain  of  benediction  from  the  might 
And  majesty  of  Oxe  enthroned  above,  — 
The  Light  of  Light,  whose  Name  of  Names  is 
Love ! 


INSCEIBED 

TO   J.    W.   AND    C.   H. 
I. 

O  HUT  in  by  clustering  roofs  and  clustering  trees, 

^     Though  not  far  off  our  blue  bright  river  pours 

Its  full  swift  volume  'twixt  the  gracious  shores, 

How  do  I  long  on  golden  days  like  these 

For  the  wide  vision  of  the  crested  seas 

Where  the  fleet  swallow  circles,  dips,  and  soars; 

Where  flash  the   gull's  white  wings,  the  fisher's 

oars, 
And  sails  that  shift  and  darken  in  the  breeze ! 
Where  the  white  surf  along  the  glistening  beach, 
And  on  the  black  rocks  streaming  from  the  spray, 
Tosses  incessant  far  as  eye  can  reach, 
And  ceaseless  murmurs  most  melodious  pour, 
Swelling  anon,  anon  to  die  away, 
While  the  sweet  pines  make  answer  evermore. 

H. 

There  stands  your  cottage,  peeping  from  the  wood 
And  facing  all  the  splendors  of  the  sea, 
On  that  dear  spot  where  I  to-day  would  be  ; 
Above,  below,  azure  of  sky  and  flood ; 

136 


INSCRIBED   TO  J.   W.  AND  C.  H.  137 

Boundless  seclusion,  boundless  solitude ; 

And  in  the  midst  what  social  feast  for  me 

To  choice  of  speech  or  silence  bidden  free, 

While  winds  and  waves  rock  every  varying  mood ! 

Through  doors  and  windows  wide,  through  all  the 

house, 
What  breeze-blown  odors  sweep  of  spice  and  balm, 
Hemlock  and  pine,  cedar  and  wilding  rose, 
And  miles  away  the  scent  of  meadow  mows ! 
Exhaustless  sweetness ;  inexpressible  calm  ; 
The  lapsing  water  murmuring,  Repose  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


AT  THE  STAND  OF  THE  TIDE. 

"D  AEED  rocks  ;  gray  sea;  gray  sky; 
•*~^     And  stillness  far  and  wide. 
No  gleaming  sail ;  no  snow-winged  gull ; 
No  glad  returning  tide. 

Is  this  the  same  fair  shore 

Where  I  so  often  see 
The  splendid  waves  display  their  crests 

Like  crowns  of  victory  ? 

The  same  wide  sea,  at  morn 

Too  burnished  to  behold, 
Or  strewn  with  sunset's  argosy 

Of  ruby,  sard  and  gold  ? 

So  still !     Not  even  stroke 

Of  far-receding  oar ; 
Only  the  gray  mist  stealing  in, 

And  settling  more  and  more. 

Not  even  the  lapsing  sound 

That  I  am  wont  to  hear 
Against  the  lonely  kelp-hung  ledge, 

Or  the  gray  sands  more  near! 

141 


142  At   THE      TAXD  OF  TEE  TIDE. 

0:"."-7  :.1t  railing  nirL:.. 
The  lost  horizon's  rim  ; 
Only  a  sense  c :  s : .::  ;  ie, 

Mvstcricis  ii:  ii~. 

His'-  !  comes  there  not  a  soci:; 

Alcng  :_e  5;.  .1  5-  ;rge  ? 

2>~::  like  :~_r  5:c"_i"_;  ::  :"_e  _  :l  ;. 

Eu:  :ie  ill:::  spelling  sirge. 

A  -  !  :'_:.:  s:\i'_.i  3.ciiz 

Mt  :i::keifi  eir  ::s:fr^:! 

Darkness,  bat  darkness  thrilled  with  life! 
The  wondrous  tide  has  turned/ 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  BIRDS. 


f\  WISE  little  birds,  how  do  ye  know 
^-^     The  way  to  go, 

Southward  and  northward,  to  and  fro  ? 


Far  up  in  the  ether  piped  they  : 

"  We  but  obey 
One  who  calleth  us  far  away. 

u  He  calleth  and  calleth  year  by  year, 

Now  there,  now  here  ; 
Ever  He  maketh  the  way  appear." 

Dear  little  birds  !     He  calleth  me 

WTio  calleth  ye  : 
Would  that  I  might  as  trusting  be ! 

143 


MY   NAMESAKE. 

"T^E-OM  silvery  clouds  the  silvery  showers 
■*■        Fell  o'er  the  earth  ; 
Stole  softly  forth  the  faint,  sweet  flowers 
Of  April  birth. 

An  April  babe  my  namesake  came 

One  April  day ; 
Just  claimed  on  earth  her  place,  her  name, 

And  fled  away. 

A  few  soft  sighings  of  the  breath 

And  it  was  spent ; 
Too  frail  for  life,  too  sweet  for  death, 

She  came  and  went. 

So  brief  a  stay,  so  swift  a  flight, 

Could  scarce  be  felt ; 
Thus  snowflakes  falling  light  as  light 

Touch  earth  and  melt. 

If  verily  she  hath  been  here 

We  hardly  know ; 
The  frailest  blossoms  of  the  year 

Her  days  outgrow. 

144 


MY  NAMESAKE,  145 

Sweet  month  of  soft  unsorrowing  sighs 

And  fragrant  breath ; 
Of  tender,  showery,  brooding  skies ; 

Of  life,  not  death ; 

Her  faint  sweet  memory  entomb 

In  violets, 
The  pathos  of  whose  faint  perfume 

Breathes  no  regrets  ! 

How  strange  to  enter  Paradise, 

As  she  to-day, 
With  not  one  tear  in  those  sweet  eyes 

To  wipe  away ! 


ERIENDS. 

'""PHERE  is  only  the  river  between  us,  dear, 
A       And  we  can  come  and  go, 
And  though  you  are  there  and  I  am  here 

I  am  filled  with  content,  for  I  know 
You  are  moving  brightly  about  the  house 

Busy  with  many  a  task, 
And  often  alone  in  your  fair  sweet  room 
In  the  morning  light  or  the  evening  gloom 
You  think  of  me, 
You  pray  for  me, 
And,  oh,  what  more  can  I  ask ! 

Daily,  indeed,  I  wish  you  were  here, 
And  when  I  am  doubtful  or  vexed 
I  long  for  your  counsels  calm  and  clear, 

But  I  do  the  thing  that  lies  next, 
And  He  who  is  more  than  any  friend 

Makes  everything  easy  and  straight, 
And  it  is  not  so  hard  as  I  feared  to  go 
In  the  way  untried,  and  as  long  as  I  know 
You  think  of  me 
And  you  pray  for  me, 
Eor  everything  else  I  can  wait. 
146 


FRIENDS.  147 

Some  day  I  shall  go  to  her,  I  say, 

Or  she  will  come  over  to  me  ; 
In  a  little  space  I  shall  see  her  face, 

This  very  day  it  may  be. 
So  I  will  not  mind  the  things  unkind, 

The  bitter  that  might  be  sweet, 
But  strive  with  a  better,  braver  heart 
To  fight  the  good  fight  and  bear  my  part, 
While  she  thinks  of  me 
And  prays  for  me, 

And  very  soon  we  shall  meet. 

Sometimes  I  ponder  how  it  will  be 

When  you  drift  to  some  home  afar ; 
And  sometimes  how  when  you  are  gone 

Where  the  saints  and  angels  are, 
When  another  river  shall  flow  between 

That  never  can  be  recrossed ; 
But  still  I  say,  whatever  betide, 
Though  earth  may  part  us  or  death  divide, 
She  will  think  of  me, 
She  will  pray  for  me ; 

My  friend  can  never  be  lost. 

For  friendship  to  live  must  be  to  love, 

To  remember  must  be  to  pray, 
So  living  or  dying  your  prayers  must  be  mine 

And  mine  must  be  yours  alway. 


148  FRIENDS. 

And,  oh,  in  the  light  of  Paradise, 

Most  faithful  of  friends,  most  dear, 
Unhindered  by  weakness  or  doubt,  and  wise 
With  the  wisdom  that  sees  not  with  earthly  eyes, 
It  surely  must  be 
You  will  pray  for  me 
As  you  could  not  pray  for  me  here ! 


WHITE  AZALEAS. 

A  Z  ALE  AS  — whitest  of  white! 
*^*"     White  as  the  drifted  snow 
Fresh-fallen  out  of  the  night, 

Before  the  coming  glow 
Tinges  the  morning  light ; 

When  the  light  is  like  the  snow, 
White, 
And  the  silence  is  like  the  light ; 
Light,  and  silence,  and  snow, 
All  — white! 

White !  not  a  hint 
Of  the  creamy  tint 

A  rose  will  hold, 

The  whitest  rose,  in  its  inmost  fold ; 
Not  a  possible  blush ; 
White  as  an  embodied  hush  ; 
A  very  rapture  of  white ; 
A  wedlock  of  silence  and  light. 
White,  white  as  the  wonder  undefiled 

Of  Eve  just  wakened  in  Paradise ; 
Nay,  white  as  the  angel  of  a  child 

That  looks  into  God's  own  eyes ! 

149 


MIDWINTER  DAYS. 

TVTIDWINTEB,  days  !  how  oft  they  bring 
1Y±    "With,  lengthening  light  a  sense  of  spring 
However  keen  may  be  their  sting. 

A  vague,  sweet  sense  that  far  below 
The  secret  wasting  of  the  snow 
The  sap  already  stirs  to  flow. 

The  frozen  sod  seems  thrilled  with  hope, 
And  where  the  valleys  sunward  slope 
The  buried  rootlets  blindly  grope. 

Beneath  the  dim  protecting  pines 
Peep  here  and  there  still  verdant  vines 
Through  rifts  of  ice,  as  day  declines 

And  pours  a  sudden  ruby  glow 

Through  lovely  woodland  aisles  that  show 

A  crimson  path  across  the  snow. 

The  birds  that  tarry  all  the  year 
Are  twittering  that  spring  is  near ; 
And  busy  with  their  plans  appear. 
150 


MIDWINTER  DAYS.  151 

Storm-driven  from  some  softer  zone 
Anon  the  flash  of  wings  unknown, 
And  winter  seems  already  flown ! 

The  air  is  full  of  prophecies, 
Soft-humming  like  Hymettus'  bees, 
In  days,  midwinter  days,  like  these  ! 


THE  LILACS. 


TT  EAV  Y  with  fragrance  and  with  dew, 

I  see  them  in  the  moonlight  pale,  — 
The  lilac-plumes  that,  two  and  two, 
Nod  to  the  wind's  low  wail. 

Purple  and  white,  I  see  them  wave,  — 
Purple  for  valor,  white  for  truth ; 

And  far  away  I  see  a  grave 

Where  lies  the  flower  of  youth ! 

152 


IN  SPKING-TIME. 


A  LL  rosy-white  the  orchard  shows, 
•*^"     All  blossom-sweet  the  west  wind  blows, 
And  sights  and  scents  together  bring 
To  yearning  hearts  the  joy  of  Spring. 

Through  sunny  vapors  streams  the  sun, 
And  lights  and  showers  blend  in  one  ; 
The  fragrant  rain  through  fragrance  falls 
And  grape-vines  bud  on  sheltering  walls. 

Out-warbling  from  his  generous  throat, 
The  golden  robin's  golden  note 
Calls  to  the  lily  and  the  rose 
Still  greenly  hid  in  leafy  close. 

Hills  capped  with  silence,  as  with  snow, 
Catch  laughter  faint  of' brooks  below  ; 
With  starry  dandelions  gay 
The  meadows  mimic  night  by  day. 

Dim-cloistered  in  the  odorous  wood, 
A  shadow-loving  sisterhood, 
The  wild  flowers  that  the  sun  forswear 
Are  pale  as  pious  nuns  with  prayer. 

153 


154  IN  SPRING-TIME. 

Like  one  refreshed  by  balmy  sleep, 
Her  inmost  bosom  warm  and  deep 
A-throb  with  beauty  yet  unborn, 
Earth  breathes  away  the  blissful  morn. 

From  sunny  nooks  that  dream  of  bloom 
To  where  gray  moss  overgrows  the  tomb, 
Floats  everywhere  that  precious  breath  — 
The  Life  that  ever  conquers  Death. 

This  is  the  joy  of  Spring,  indeed  ; 
The  witness  glad  to  Word  and  Creed ; 
The  lovely  Parable  of  Earth 
That  pointeth  to  Immortal  Birth ! 


LOVE'S  VISITATION. 

T  X  7 AS  ever  yet  the  world  so  fair ! 

*  *       The  long,  sweet  day  !  the  tender  night ! 
A  fragrant  thrill  pervades  the  air  — 
Spring's  ever  newly  waked  delight. 

It  floods  the  azure  realm  above ; 

It  quickens  all  the  sod  below ; 
It  is  the  very  soul  of  Love, 

And  song  and  bloom  its  overflow. 

No  living  thing  unconscious  named 
But  knows  the  depth  of  this  delight, 

And  filled  with  joy  and  unashamed 
Leaves  joy  to  fashion  joy  aright. 

The  bluebird's  note  is  all  his  own ; 

The  thrush  one  matchless  song  repeats ; 
And  murmurs  Love  translates  alone 

Hint  how  the  brooding  dove-heart  beats. 

At  eve  the  stars  grow  dim  with  dreams  ; 

At  morn  the  wandering  waysides  blush ; 
More  sweet  the  brook's  low  babble  seems, 

Wed  with  the  woodland's  happy  hush. 

155 


156  LOVE'S   VISITATION. 

Beneath  the  sapphire-gleaming  arch 

Like  mated  swans  the  white  clouds  sail ; 

And  consciously  yon  lovely  larch 
Lets  down  her  swaying  vernal  veil. 

And  picturing  scenes  where  lance  and  spur 
For  Love  their  utmost  valor  spent, 

Lo  !  in  the  fields  a  golden  stir  — 
The  dandelions'  tournament. 

As  on  the  wings  of  old  romance 

The  pageant  of  the  fields  shall  pass  ; 

Where  now  the  golden  flowers  glance 
Pale  phantoms  float  across  the  grass. 

But  each  returning  Spring  of  time 
Love  —  Love  shall  still  be  born  anew  ; 

The  spirit  of  an  heavenly  clime 

Crown  earth  with  bridal  bloom  and  dew. 


THE   DOVES. 


OKETTY  doves,  so  blithely  ranging 
A        Up  and  down  the  street ; 
Glossy  throats  all  bright  hues  changing, 
Little  scarlet  feet. 

Pretty  doves  !  among  the  daisies 

They  should  coo  and  flit ! 
All  these  toilsome,  noisy  places 

Seem  for  them  unfit. 

Yet  amidst  our  human  plodding 

They  must  love  to  be  ; 
With  their  little  heads  a-nodding, 

Busier  than  we. 

Close  to  hoof  and  wheel  they  hover, 

Glancing  right  and  left, 
Sure  some  treasure  to  discover ; 

Rapid,  shy,  and  deft. 

Friendliest  of  feathered  creatures, 

In  their  timid  guise ; 
Wisdom's  little  silent  teachers, 

Praying  us  be  wise. 

157 


158  THE  DOVES. 

Fluttering  at  footsteps  careless, 

Danger  swift  to  flee, 
Lowly,  trusting,  faithful,  fearless, 

Oh  that  such  were  we  ! 

In  the  world  and  yet  not  of  it, 
Ready  to  take  wing,  — 

By  this  lesson  could  we  profit 
It  were  everything ! 


SONG. 

9 1  ^HE  wind  blows  out  of  the  west, 

"*■      The  wind  is  merry  and  free ; 

It  brings  fair  weather  for  us,  love, 

Fair  weather  for  thee  and  me. 

The  sun  shines  out  of  the  east 

And  dances  over  the  sea. 
The  world 's  a-glitter  for  us,  love, 

A-glitter  for  thee  and  me. 

And  now  the  world 's  a-dusk, 
The  nest  unstirred  on  the  tree ; 

The  fair  moon  hangs  at  its  full,  love, 
And  shineth  for  thee  and  me. 

159 


MY  DKEAM. 

T  DREAMED  that  I  drifted  alone  in  a  boat 
-*■  Far  out  on  the  sea  by  night ; 

I  had  neither  rudder  nor  sail  nor  oar, 
And  I  lost  the  harbor  light. 

I  drifted  and  drifted  on  and  on, 

I  could  only  feel  the  swell 
Of  the  weltering  wave  that  tossed  my  boat 

As  if  it  had  been  a  shell. 

No  sound  could  I  hear,  no  sight  could  I  see 

Save  only  the  stars  overhead ; 
But  unfearing  I  laid  me  down  to  sleep 

In  that  narrow  unstable  bed. 

I  sank  into  slumber  as  profound 

As  theirs  whom  we  say  are  "  no  more  "5 

No  waking  sense  in  body  or  soul 
To  whisper  when  night  was  o'er. 

But  I  wakened  at  last,  as  if  at  the  touch 
Of  some  watcher-  unseen  but  true, 

With  the  flood-light  of  day  on  the  waters  wide 
And  above  me  the  wondrous  blue. 
160 


MY  DREAM.  161 

And  the  shore,  the  shore  was  close  at  hand ! 

More  swift  than  the  words  are  said, 
Where  its  gates  of  verdure  seaward  swung, 

Straight  into  the  harbor  I  sped. 

Straight  in  under  sails  that  swept  along 

Like  great  wings  eager  in  flight, 
With  a  steady  breeze  and  a  steady  keel, 

And  a  thrilling  sense  of  delight. 

Brighter  and  brighter  the  whole  world  grew, 

The  splendor  on  sea  and  shore, 
And  the  harbor  was  glad  with  all  manner  of  craft 

That  danced  for  their  voyages  o'er. 

Again  the  touch  of  that  watcher  unseen, 
As  I  veered  toward  the  waiting  pier, 

And  —  I  waked  in  the  old  familiar  room, 
And  found  it  was  daybreak  here ! 

At  the  morning  meal  I  rehearsed  it  all, 

So  real  did  the  unreal  seem, 
And  one  and  another  lightly  cried, 

"  I  will  interpret  the  dream." 

It  matters  little  —  the  things  that  they  said, 

But  I  know  I  often  must  be 
Tossed  on  "  the  waves  of  this  troublesome  world, " 

Alone  at  night  on  the  sea. 


162  MY  DREAM. 

God  grant  that  my  faith,  may  never  fail, 
And  when  perils  and  darkness  are  past, 

Having  fallen  asleep  with  a  holy  hope, 
May  I  find  a  safe  harbor  at  last ! 


A  VIGIL. 


"^\ARK  shore,  and  desolate  sky 
"*-^     Unquickened  by  a  star ; 
Sad  sea  where  wandering  sails  are  lost 
In  night  afar ! 

No  human  presence  sweet, 
Nor  other  sound  beside 
Save  that  to  silence  near  akin  — « 
The  ebbing  tide. 

Only  a  lonely  wreck 

High  on  the  lonely  beach, 
Whose  hopelessness  defies  at  last 
The  breaker's  reach. 

0  Earth  that  keeps  no  watch, 

0  Heaven  that  lights  no  star, 
He  is  who  cares  for  every  sail, 
Each  broken  spar  ! 

163 


CONFIRMATION. 

T    DISTANT  watcher  by  her  dying  bed 

■*■ '     Miles,  many  miles  away, 

Who  could  not  hear  another  watcher  say 

Her  soul  had  fled, 

How  should  I  know ! 
What  messenger,  as  swift  as  thought,  had  sped 
To  whisper  at  my  bed-room  door 
That  hour,  before  the  break  of  day, 

"  She  is  no  more  !  " 
No  step  did  come  or  go. 
I  listened :  all  was  deathly  still ; 
Only  the  strange  mysterious  chill 
That  tells  the  dawn  at  hand 
And  the  outrunning  of  the  vital  sand. 

Far-off  a  muffled  clock  was  striking  slow ; 

I  counted  :  Four  ; 
And  then  exhaustion  ;  for  the  watch  was  o'er. 


I  woke  at  length  to  find 
The  sun  red-streaming  through  the  blind. 
One  wept  beside  me;  "  This  has  come,"  she  said, 
And  would  have  read 

164 


CONFIRMATION.  165 

The  bit  of  paper  shaking  in  her  hand, 
But  that  I  checked  her  :  "  Oh, 

I  understand ! 
I  know,  dear  heart,  I  know !  " 
"But,"  weeping  very  sore, 

4  ■  She  died  at  four." 

"  Yes  :  four." 


SUMMER-TIME. 


O  UMMER'S  breath  has  kissed  the  lovely  bloom 
**-*       From  the  apple-trees  : 
Out  of  flower-cups,  dripping  with  perfume, 
Sip  the  honey-bees. 

Where  the  vines  are  strung  with  roses  red 

Dart  the  humming-birds ; 
Winds,  like  lovers,  in  the  boughs  o'erhead 

Whisper  tender  words. 

Clover-crested  are  the  waves  of  grass 

Where  the  little  feet 
Frolic,  deep  in  coolness,  as  I  pass 

From  the  sunny  street. 

When  at  eve  o'er  field  and  fen  and  brake 

Misty  curtains  fall, 
Fire-flies,  in  their  meteor  dances,  make 

Nightly  carnival. 
166 


CRADLE  SONGS. 


i. 


O  LEEP,  sweetest  babe,  and  dream 
^     In  the  red  firelight's  gleam ; 

The  storm  clouds  fill  the  sky. 
Thou  canst  not  dream  of  harm, 
Soothed  by  the  mother-charm, 

A  tender  lullaby. 

Sleep !     Though  the  wild  wind  blows 
And  drifts  the  blinding  snows, 

All  feathery  soft  they  lie. 
The  rhythm  of  the  sleet 
Reaches  thy  hushed  retreat, 

A  gentle  lullaby. 

Close  to  thy  mother's  side 
Sleep,  warm  and  satisfied  ; 

How  sweet  thy  baby  sigh! 
Dear  dove!  the  storm  is  o'er; 
The  waves  lisp  on  the  shore, 

A  ceaseless  lullaby. 

Sleep !     Earth  no  more  is  drear 
Since  that  sweet  Babe  was  here 
Whose  angels  thronged  the  sky. 

167 


168  CRADLE  SONGS. 

Sleep!     Only  mothers  know 
That  night  of  long  ago 
When  Mary,  bending  low, 
Sang  Jesu's  lullaby. 


ii. 

Sleep,  little  sunny  head! 
The  morning  hours  have  sped ; 

The  noonday  sun  climbs  high. 
The  summer  breezes  sweet 
Winnow  the  waving  wheat, 

A  murmuring  lullaby. 

Sleep,  little  cradled  head  ! 
Sleep  in  thy  wee  white  bed, 

While  mother  watches  nigh. 
The  rustling  summer  rain 
Whispers  a  soft  refrain, 

A  soothing  lullaby. 

Sleep  !     Wake  and  sleep  again  ! 
No  longer  croons  the  rain ; 

The  sun  drops  down  the  sky ; 
Sleep,  sleep,  and  sleeping  hear 
The  angels  fluting  near  — 

Celestial  lullaby. 


CRADLE  SONGS.  169 

Sleep,  nested  like  a  dove, 
Babe  on  the  breast  of  love  ! 

The  mild  moon  rideth  high ; 
The  whole  world  sleeps  but  one 
Whose  watch  is  never  done, 
Whose  waking  heart  sings  on 

Love's  endless  lullaby. 


SWEET-PEAS. 

O  WEET-PEAS  !  Sweet-Peas  ! 

^       The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things  ! 
Airily  poised,  like  butterfly  wings, 
On  the  slender  stem. 
And  now  they  brood  in  a  still  delight ; 

And  anon,  as  the  light  wind  touches  them, 
They  tremble  and  flutter,  as  feigning  flight, 
In  coyness  —  not  affright. 
And  lest  they  fly, 
The  tricksy  Zephyr  passes  by 
With  a  little  moan  of  make-believe, 
And  pretends  to  die 
Among  the  cherry-trees ! 
They  only  smile  —  they  will  not  grieve, 
The  gay  and  shy 
Sweet-Peas  ! 

Sweet-Peas  !  Sweet-Peas ! 
The  very  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things ! 
Perfect  pink  and  perfect  white ; 
Exhaling  a  perfume  so  rare,  so  pure, 
It  ceaseth  never  to  allure, 
Nor  faileth  ever  to  satisfy  ; 

170 


SWEET-PEAS.  171 

Like  a  breath  of  immortality, 
Like  a  hint  of  youth  unspent  for  aye ; 
Of  love  —  Ah,  well-a-day  ! 
Say,  ye  sweetest  of  all  sweet  things, 
Sweet-Peas, 
What  are  ye  likest  ?  —  what  like  ye  ? 
The  dream  of  Beauty,  the  wonder  that  clings 
*     To  snowy-lidded  Innocence  — 
These  mystic  nebulae 
(Souls  of  flowers  to  be), 
Lightly  drifted  hence, 
And  mingling  straightway  they  became 
Visible  in  pink  and  white, 

In  dainty-delicate  forms  like  these, 
And  gat  themselves  a  name  ; 

Dew-christened  in  laver  of  morning  light, 
"  Sweet-Peas ! " 

Sweet-Peas !  Sweet-Peas ! 
Here  is  a  handful  for  her  to  wear 
Who  is  sweet  like  them,  and  more  stately-fair. 
Lie,  nosegay  of  blushes,  mid  snows  of  lace, 
And  match  the  bloom  of  her  maiden  face 
When  cometh  her  own  sweetheart  to  share 
The  posy  modest  and  debonair, 
Whose  dear  bestowal  shall  bring  him  ease 
And  sweet  assurances, 
Dispelling  sweet  anxieties, 
Sweet-Peas ! 


172  SWEET-PEAS. 

And  will  ye  have  a  sweetheart  too. 

Sweet-Peas.  Sweet-Peas  ? 
Then  here  *s  Zephyr  come  back  to  woo, 
If  you  please  ! 
Xay,  but  Zephyr  is  a  flirt ! 

Make  asjain  vour  winded  threat 
Till  in  very  truth  he  fret  — 
What's  the  hurt?  — 
And  die  among  the  cherry-trees 
For  lore  of  you, 

Sweet-Peas ! 


INCOGNITA. 

T  7EILED  in  verse,  who  knows 

^       Whether  I  smile  or  weep  ? 

Slippered  in  fancies,  who  can  tell 

What  measure  of  step  I  keep  ? 

Lift  the  veil,  dear  Love ! 

To  thee  I  will  show  my  face ; 
Hark,  and  thine  ear  shall  surely  hear 

My  heart's  inaudible  pace ! 

173 


HELIOTROPE. 

OWEETEST,  sweetest  Heliotrope! 
*-*     In  the  sunset's  dying  splendor, 
In  the  trance  of  twilight  tender, 
All  my  senses  I  surrender 

To  the  subtle  spells  that  bind  me : 
The  dim  air  swimmeth  in  my  sight 
With  visions  vague  of  soft  delight ; 

Shadowy  hands  with  endless  chain 
Of  purple-clustered  bloom  enwind  me  5 
Garlands  drenched  in  dreamy  rain 
Of  perfume  passionate  as  sorrow, 
And  sad  as  Love's  to-morrow  ! 
Bewildering  music  fills  mine  ears  — 
Faint  laughter  and  commingling  tears  — 
Flowing  like  delicious  pain 
Through  my  drowsy  brain. 
Bosomed  in  the  blissful  gloom 

Meseems  I  sink  on  slumberous  slope 
Buried  deep  in  purple  bloom, 
Sweetest,  sweetest  Heliotrope ! 

174 


DAY-LILIES. 

O  SUMMER  day, 
Delay!  delay! 
One  waving  of  thy  brooding  wing, 
One  stirring  of  thy  hazy  wing, 

And  noontide  light  and  heat 
Will  find  my  dewy  shadow-lair, 

And  burn  the  coolness  from  the  grasses 

That  swathe  my  feet 

In  rank  and  billowy  masses ; 
And  to  this  claustral  twilight  bring 
The  sun's  profanest  glare. 

0  summer  day, 

Delay !  delay ! 
Let  naked  hill  and  bare  brown  field 

Parch  in  thy  torrid  ray, 
So  this  dim  nook  be  unrevealed, 

Where  I, 
Deliciously  concealed, 

Among  the  lilies  lie. 

The  delicate  Day-lilies ! 

The  white  and  wonderful  lilies ! 

My  dark  green  haunt  so  still  is 

175 


176  DAY-LILIES. 

The  wildest  birdling  dare  not  sing, 
Nor  insect  beat  a  gossamer  wing, 
Nor  zephyr  lift  the  lightest  thing, 

Here,  where  the  lustrous  lilies, 

The  clear,  resplendent  lilies, 
Pour  out  their  heavenly-sweet  perfume, 

And  with  their  snowiness, 
In  clusters  chaste,  illume 

This  dusk  recess. 

Soft-footed  Silence,  royal  nun  ! 

In  this  thy  humid,  emerald  cell 

Forever  dwell ! 
These  flowers  supernal  ever  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  thy  virgin  shrine  ! 
Here,  one  by  one, 

Tell  o'er  thy  glistering,  roral  beads,— 

A  rosary  strung  on  tangled  weeds 

And  blades  and  stems  that  intertwist. 
The  breath  of  lilies  be  thy  prayers, 
Sweet-odored,  wafted  unawares 
Up  through  the  morning's  lucent  airs 

And  evening's  pallid  mist ! 
The  glittering  stars  shall  o'er  thee  pass, 
Deep-pillowed  in  the  heavy  grass  ; 

These  broad,  smooth  lily-leaves  shall  be 

A  glossy  coverlet  for  thee, 

Thy  prayers  and  penance  done, 
O  royal  nun ! 


DAY-LILIES.  177 

By  day  or  night, 

In  dark  or  light, 
Thy  fragrant  shrine  shall  be  the  same  ; 

These  slender  tapers  lambent  still, 

Nor  blazing  sun,  nor  mildew  chill, 
Shall  quench  their  alabaster  name. 

A  gleam,  as  of  a  crystal  wand ! 

And  Day  peers  in  with  curious  face ; 
The  jealous  sunshine,  stealing  round, 

Doth  warily  chase 

The  cool,  dank  shadows  on  the  ground ; 
The  cloister-walls  no  longer  stand ; 

A  garish  glory  fills  the  space, 
And  lights  the  lush  grass,  loose  and  long ; 
And  startled  by  the  wild  bird's  song, 

Soft-footed  Silence  flees  apace  ; 
But  still  serene  the  lilies  shine, 
Pure-flamed,  before  her  ruined  shrine ! 


THE   CRICKETS. 


TI)IPE,  little  minstrels  of  the  waning  year, 
-L  In  gentle  concert  pipe  ! 

Pipe  the  warm  noons ;  the  mellow  harvest  near ; 
The  apples  dropping  ripe ; 

The  tempered  sunshine  and  the  softened  shade; 

The  trill  of  lonely  bird ; 
The  sweet  sad  hush  on  Nature's  gladness  laid ; 

The  sounds  through  silence  heard ! 

Pipe  tenderly  the  passing  of  the  year ; 

The  summer's  brief  reprieve ; 
The  dry  husk  rustling  round  the  yellow  ear ; 

The  chill  of  dawn  and  eve ! 

Pipe  the  untroubled  trouble  of  the  year ; 

Pipe  low  the  painless  pain ; 
Pipe  your  unceasing  melancholy  cheer ; 

The  year  is  in  the  wane ! 
178 


THE   LINGERING   OCTOBER   WEATHER. 

TAO  you  recall  our  pleasant  walk, 
"■"^     The  last,  dear  friend,  we  took  together, 
Our  leisurely  pace,  our  quiet  talk, 
The  lingering  October  weather  ? 

How  still  the  world  was !     Not  a  breath 

To  lift  a  leaf  or  float  a  feather ; 
A  hush  of  happiness,  not  death, 

That  lingering  October  weather. 

While  like  some  frolic  creature  tied 
By  sweet  content's  unconscious  tether, 

Your  little  one  walked  close  beside 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

The  lazy  crows  above  our  head 

Went  slowly  sailing  through  the  ether; 

The  dry  leaves  rustled  at  our  tread 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

We  followed  up  the  winding  road 

Where  shore  and  river  kissed  each  other, 

And  Nature's  peace  our  hearts  o'erflowed 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

179 


180     THE  LINGERING  OCTOBER    WEATHER. 

Against  the  background  of  the  pines 
The  birch  and  maple  leaned  together; 

A  flame  ran  through  the  blackberry  vines 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

Fair  vistas  opened  either  side, 

Of  hill  or  stream,  or  both  together ; 

But  one  the  hush  on  wood  and  tide 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

The  distant  mountain  seemed  a  cloud 
Or  like  a  melting  opal  rather, 

With  such  a  gracious  light  endowed, 
That  lingering  October  weather. 

I  looked  upon  your  happy  face ; 

I  watched  you  as  we  walked  together ; 
I  thought :  She  fills  so  fair  a  place ! 

That  lingering  October  weather. 

With  dancing  eyes  in  swift  surprise 
You  stooped  a  wilding  rose  to  gather  ; 

A  rose,  the  pet  of  summer  skies, 

Still  blooming  through  October  weather  ! 

I  thought  how  like  the  rose  you  were  ! 

Though  youth  and  summer  fly  together, 
No  frost,  I  said,  will  visit  her, 

But  lingering  October  weather. 


KNITTING  SONG. 

OTITCH  by  stitch  and  row  on  row, 

^    This  is  the  way  the  stocking  must  grow. 

Clickety,  clickety,  day  by  day 

The  slender,  glittering  needles  say. 

Hnsh-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings  ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Pearl  and  plain  and  plain  and  pearl, 
Be  it  for  boy  or  be  it  for  girl ; 
Two  and  two  is  a  neat  device  ; 
Learn  to  shift  the  thread  in  a  trice. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Inch  by  inch  the  long  leg  grows, 
Straight  and  narrow  for  fitting  close  ; 
A  very  poor  leg,  is  the  saying  well  known, 
That  cannot  shape  a  sock  of  its  own. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

181 


182  KNITTING  SONG. 

Count  the  stitches  and  halve  them  now, 
And  one  half  set  in  a  single  row, 
And  back  and  forth,  outside  and  in, 
Knit  the  heel  on  the  single  pin. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings  ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Knit  it  long  and  narrow  midway 
To  round  it ;  and  bind  it  off,  as  we  say ; 
Take  up  the  loops  on  either  side 
And  add  a  few  more  to  make  it  wide. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Now  each  side  narrow  or  slip  and  bind, 
To  shape  the  instep,  as  you  will  find  ; 
Then  knit  straight  on  till  you  near  the  toe ; 
This  is  the  way  the  foot  must  grow. 

Hush-a-bye,  Baby,  Grandmother  sings ; 

Hither  and  thither  the  cradle  swings. 

Then  narrow  once  more,  and  narrow  away, 

Toeing  it  off,  as  knitters  say. 

There  is  a  stocking  fit  for  an  heir  ! 

Now  knit  the  mate  for  he  must  have  a  pair ! 
Hush-a-bye,  Baby  ;  when  you  are  grown 
Your  feet  may  be  worthy  to  climb  to  a  throne  ! 


LOVE  FOR  LOVE. 
FOR  A  CHILD. 

/^\H  the  old  moon  will  rise  not  yet ; 
^-^     JT  is  a  weary,  weary  old  moon 
And  late,  late  up  ;  but  we  will  not  fret, 
The  new  moon  will  shine  for  us  soon. 

And  "where  is  the  new  moon,"  pet  ? 

"  And  where  does  the  old  moon  go  ?  n 
They  never  are  parted,  they  never  met, 

But  each  from  the  other  they  grow. 

In  her  bosom  the  old  moon  yet 

The  new  moon  shelters  and  warms, 

And  the  fair  young  moon  —  she  will  not  forget 
But  rise  with  the  old  in  her  arms  ! 
183 


DEDICATION  OF  A  GUEST-BOOK. 

TO   J.    W.    A. 

TN  this  book  I  pray  you  see 

Not  what  is,  but  what  may  be, 
When  on  these  expectant  pages, 
Poets,  scholars,  priests  and  sages, 
And  the  friends  who  only  claim 
At  your  hands  that  gracious  name, 
As  your  guests  from  day  to  day 
Chronicle  in  brief  their  stay. 
Of  this  goodly  company 
As  the  herald  reckon  me. 

Wit  and  wisdom,  prose  and  verse, 
Graceful  lyric,  proverb  terse, 
From  the  pens  of  kith  and  kin, 
Swell  the  pleasant  store  within  — 
Cherished  names  and  names  renowned 
Make  these  barren  leaves  abound; 
Year  by  year  the  volume  grow 
Till  it  reach  its  overflow ! 
But  however  rich  at  last 
As  a  record  of  the  past, 
Richer  record  will  it  be 
Of  your  hospitality. 

184 


DEDICATION   OF  A   GUEST-BOOK.         185 

Life  that  shifts  with  wind  and  tide 
Keep  for  you  one  steadfast  side ; 
One  thing  keep  untouched  by  pain ; 
All  your  friends  your  friends  remain ! 
Keep  your  home  that  happy  spot 
Where  old  ties  are  unforgot ; 
Where  no  link  of  love  is  lost ; 
Where  no  trust  by  doubt  is  crossed. 
This  dear  boon  to  consummate 
Holy  angels  guard  your  gate ! 


TWO   MEN. 


i. 


T    OSSES  on  losses,  fast  they  came  ; 
*■— '     Men  said :  "  There 's  left  him  but  his  name ; 
But  that  is  free  from  blot  or  blame." 

Despairing,  bowed  with  care  and  dread, 

As  if  he  heard,  he  raised  his  head  ; 

"  Thank  God,  I  have  my  name  ! "  he  said. 


II. 

A  palace  ;  gilded  ease  and  glare ; 

Loud  jests  and  laughter ;  banquets  rare  ; 

Dark  hints  of  foul  beneath  the  fair. 

At  daybreak,  on  a  sleepless  bed, 
He  moaned  and  turned  his  fevered  head ; 
"  I  've  all  things  but  a  name !  "  he  said. 
186 


THE  BABY  I  LOVE. 


^HIS  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 
•*■    The  baby  that  cannot  talk ; 

The  baby  that  cannot  walk ; 
The  baby  that  just  begins  to  creep ; 
The  baby  that  ?s  cuddled  and  rocked  to  sleep ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

The  baby  that  ?s  never  cross ; 

The  baby  papa  can  toss  ; 
The  baby  that  crows  when  held  aloft ; 
The  baby  that 's  rosy  and  round  and  soft ! 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  laughs  when  I  peep 

To  see  is  it  still  asleep ; 
The  baby  that  coos  and  frowns  and  blinks 
When  left  alone  —  as  it  sometimes  thinks  ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

187 


188  THE  BABY  I  LOVE. 

This  is  the  bahy  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  lies  on  my  knee 

And  dimples  and  smiles  at  me 
While  I  strip  it,  and  bathe  it,  and  kiss  it  —  oh  !  — 
Till  with  bathing  and  kissing  't  is  all  aglow ; 

Yes,  this  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  all  freshly  dressed ; 

That  waking  is  never  at  rest ; 
That  plucks  at  my  collar  and  pulls  my  hair 
Till  I  look  like  a  witch,  but  I  do  not  care ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  understands ; 

And  dances  with  feet  and  hands 
And  a  sweet  little  whinnying  eager  cry 
For  the  nice  warm  breakfast  that  waits  it  close  by ; 

Oh,  this  is  the  baby  I  love  ! 

This  is  the  baby  I  love ! 

The  baby  that  tries  to  talk ; 

The  baby  that  longs  to  walk ; 
And  oh !  its  mamma  will  wake  some  day 
To  find  that  her  baby  has  —  run  aivay  ! 

My  baby —  the  baby  I  love  ! 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN  A  HOUSE-BOOK. 

FOR   E.    C.    S. 

T  T  ERE  by  the  singing  sea 

■*-  ■*-     No  other  voice  should  be  heard, 

Whether  a  poet's  rhyme 

Or  the  note  of  a  passing  bird  ; 
So  I  leave  on  this  silent  page 

Only  a  written  word. 

189 


RETURNED. 

/^VNCE  more  returned.    The  rustling  stillness 

^-J         round 
Of  this  old-fashioned  garden,  and  the  grace 
That  indefinable  o'erhangs  the  place, 

Each  subtle  odor  and  each  nameless  sound, 

Each  single  whisper  of  each  single  tree, 

Each  nook  made  cool  with  shade  or  warm 

with  sun, 
Notes,  (I  could  almost  sing  them  one  by  one,) 

Notes  are  they  all  in  one  sweet  harmony, 

Eamiliar  through  how  many  changeful  years  ! 
The  ample  house,  each  cool  inviting  room, 
As  well  as  garden- ways  of  tangled  bloom, 

Another  harmony  of  love  and  tears ! 

Ah,  should  I  wander  far  as  heaven's  blue  dome 
Roofs  any  phase  of  life  or  varying  clime, 
And  then,  unknowing,  at  the  end  of  time 

Return,  I  should  cry  out :   Why,  this  is  home  t 
190 


T 


IN  AUTUMN. 

HE  cool,  bright  days, 
The  calm,  bright  days, 
With  their  liberal-hearted  noons  ! 
The  clear,  still  nights, 
The  restful  nights, 
"With  their  greatening  harvest-moons ; 
And  the  ghostly  rustle  of  withered  corn 
Plucked  of  its  ivory  ears  and  shorn 
Of  the  floating  fringes  that  tossed  and  swayed 
When  the  ripening  summer  zephyr  played 
Through   the   ranks    that  shone  in   the   summer 
morn  — 

The  beautiful  corn ! 

The  golden  days  !  the  golden  days  ! 
Warm  with  sunshine  and  dreamy  with  haze ; 
Warm  with  the  sunshine  and  cool  with  the  breeze  ! 
Like  troops  of  tropical  butterflies 
Clouds  of  leaves  from  the  gorgeous  trees 

Flutter  and  fall, 
And  cover  the  earth  with  splendid  dyes 
Matching  the  marvels  of  sunset  skies. 

191 


192  JN  AUTUMN. 

Swell  beyond  swell  the  hills  uplift  — 
The  hills  serene ; 
Slope  beyond  slope  they  ebb  away 
Into  the  distance  azure-gray ; 
And  over  them  all, 

Through  veils  of  amethyst  vaguely  seen 
Magical  lights  incessantly  shift, 

Moved  by  the  wonder  hands  of  Day  — 
Over  the  hills  serene  ! 

No  ripple  breaks 
The  lucid  lakes 
Up  from  whose  margins  the  gay  banks  climb  — 

Into  whose  deeps  the  shadows  descend 
Like  sunken  gardens  in  their  prime, 
Whose  softly-pictured  terraces  end 
In  emerald  grottos  where  Naiads  dream 
While  the  unstirred  rushes  over  them  stream. 
From  the  woodbine  draping  the  cottage  thatch 
The  wandering  winds  as  they  pass, 
Tenderly,  one  by  one,  detach 
Leaves  of  crimson  that  flame  in  the  sun : 

One  by  one, 
Slowly  downward  they  waver,  and  twirl, 
And  alight  on  the  trampled  grass. 
Day  by  day  the  vine-leaves  curl 
Revealing  the  heavily  hanging  grapes 
In  tempting  clusters  of  rarest  shapes, 
That  out  of  the  heart  of  summer  grew ; 


IN  AUTUMN.  193 

Dusky-purple  and  amber-white, 

Warmed  in  the  nooning  and  cooled  in  the  night, 

Mingled  of  honey,  and  sunlight,  and  dew. 
The  breeze  through  the  orchard-alley  sweeps, 
And  russet-brown  leaves  in  dusty  heaps 

Eddy  and  whirl ; 
And  russet-brown  apples,  and  rosy-cheeked, 
Fall  from  the  ruddy  half-rifled  bough, 
Strewing  the  grassy  patch 
With  its  footpath  trail  below, 
"Where  the  bare-headed,  sunburnt  farmer's  girl 
Gathers  the  fairest  and  leaves  the  rest 
For  the  gold-brown  bee  in  his  honey  quest, 
And  the  zealous  ants  that  busily  swarm 
Over  the  bruises  mellow  and  warm  ; 
While  chicks  full  feathered  and  yellow-beaked 
Roam  in  the  sunshine  and  leisurely  scratch 
For  the  helpless  worm  withdrawing  its  coil 
Lazily  into  the  loosened  soil. 

Streaming  in  at  the  wide  barn  door 
"Warm  lies  the  sun  on  the  well-worn  floor 
Scattered  with  wisps  of  straw  and  grain 
From  the  generous  wain. 
Heaped  high  as  the  rafters  the  sweet-smelling  hay 
O'erhangs  the  bursting  loft, 
And  a  breath  from  the  orchard  croft 
Stirs  the  loosened  spears,  and  they  drop  away 
Koiselessly-soft ! 


194  /jv  AUTUMN. 

The  mellow  days !  the  mellow  days  ! 
The  brown  seed  ripens  and  bursts  the  pod ; 

The  brown  seed  ripens,  the  stem  decays, 
The  black  root  rotting  under  the  sod. 
The  lattice  o'er-straggled  by  faded  vines 

Leans  to  its  fall, 
And  here  and  there  by  the  garden  wall 
And  beside  the  late-neglected  walks, 
Amid  blackened  weeds  and  mouldering  stalks 
Where  the  fly  in  his  mail  of  emerald  shines, 

Flowers  of  garish  beauty  bloom 

Like  torches  that  flare  at  the  mouth  of  a  tomb. 
Phantom  of  summer,  silver  fair, 
Peacefully  restless  through  the  air 
"With  the  unseen  currents  that  softly  flow 
Drifts  the  thistle-down  to  and  fro. 

The  yellow  days  !  the  yellow  days  ! 
Fields  of  stubble  and  naked  ways ! 
The  year's  last  gold 
On  the  uttermost  bough 
Flutters  mournfully  now ! 
The  sumach  that  burned  like  the  bush  of  old 

Is  almost  stripped  of  its  fire ; 
And  trampled  out  by  the  rains  that  beat 
The  sodden  paths  with  their  million  feet 
The  last  bright  hues  expire ! 


MY  PICTURE. 

T^LOWERS  tossing,  swaying,  tossing, 
•*■       Larkspur,  lilies,  poppies,  phlox, 
Roses,  pinks,  and  coreopsis, 

Foxglove,  cornflowers,  hollyhocks, 
All  old-fashioned  as  the  place  is 
With  its  pretty  terraced  spaces. 

And  beyond  and  all  about  it, 

For  the  background  of  its  bloom, 

Just  the  grass  and  trees  that  make  it 
Such  a  picture  for  my  room  ! 

All  unguessed  from  where  the  street  is 

Its  seclusion  very  sweet  is. 

But  by  far  its  fairest  feature 
Is  the  hemlock  grove  and  pine 

That  the  garden  half  o'ershadows 
In  the  golden  day's  decline  j 

Very  fair  the  ever-shifting 

Sunbeams  through  the  dark  pines  sifting. 

Velvet-like  the  seal-brown  carpet 

Woven  year  by  year  below, 
When  the  garden's  bloom  has  vanished, 

195 


196  MY  PICTURE. 

Covered  with  a  sheet  of  snow 
Over  which  the  shadows  playing 
Rival  summer's  soft  arraying. 

This  my  picture,  ever-changing, 
Never,  never  quite  the  same, 

Heaven's  own  azure  for  its  canvas 
And  my  window-sash  its  frame. 

Dear  old-fashioned  homestead  garden, 

And  the  woods  —  my  Fancy's  Arden! 


THE  HOME  AMONG  THE  HILLS. 

IV  /f  ID  WAY  between  these  towering  hills 
*■*•*■      One  lonely  human  dwelling  ; 
The  circling  acres,  culture  swept, 
Its  little  history  telling ! 

On  either  hand  the  meadow  land 
Makes  fair  the  mountain  spaces 

With  golden  reach  of  buttercups 
And  silver  drift  of  daisies. 

Behind,  the  massive  forest  wall ; 

Before,  the  river  running  ; 
And  close  about  the  little  cot 

The  signs  of  human  cunning : 

The  signs  so  homely  and  so  sweet 

That  draw  us  to  each  other, 
And  make  the  daily  life  of  man 

Familiar  to  his  brother. 

We  know  the  hand  at  early  morn 
That  cottage  hearth-fire  kindling ; 

We  watched  the  dropping  of  this  corn  ; 
We  wait  its  purple  spindling  ! 

197 


108  THE  HOME  AMONG  THE  HILLS. 

A  part  have  we  in  all  the  toils 

Of  these  our  mountain  neighbors ; 

A  portion  in  the  precious  gain 

Heaven  winnows  from  their  labors. 

We  taste  their  trials,  share  their  feasts, 
And  with  a  passing  wonder 

We  linger  even  while  we  go, 

Their  choice,  their  lot  to  ponder. 

Amid  the  grandeur  and  the  gloom 

On  every  hand  abiding, 
A  flower  of  human  blossoming 

This  little  home  is  hiding. 

What  tender  wind  of  Providence 
The  small  seed  hither  drifted 

Where  yet  these  shadows  vast  may  fall 
On  village  spires  uplifted  ? 

Less  awful  seem  those  hills  august, 
Less  lone  the  valley's  glooming, 

Since  in  this  wilderness  the  rose 
Of  human  life  is  blooming ! 


A  HARVEST  HYMN. 

WRITTEN  FOR  THE  AMESBURY  AND  SALISBURY 
AGRICULTURAL  EXHIBITION,   SEPT.  17,  1860. 

f\  HAPPY  day  returned  once  more 
^-^     With  golden  plenty  still  replete ; 
As  though  she  never  gave  before 

Earth  pours  her  treasures  at  our  feet. 

And  ne'er  did  ruddier  fruit  fulfil 

The  rosy  prophecies  of  May ; 
Ne'er  did  the  rugged  lands  we  till 

Yield  sweeter  corn  or  flowers  more  gay. 

Not  one  among  the  many  here 

Who  prune  the  tree  or  plough  the  soil, 

But  has  some  share  in  Nature's  cheer, 
Some  liberal  recompense  for  toil. 

Yet  none  his  choicest  stores  may  boast 
Of  flowers  or  fruit  or  garnered  grain, 

For  labor  of  his  hands  were  lost 

Unblest  by  heaven's  refreshing  rain. 

199 


200  A  BAR  VEST  HYMN. 

Oh  thanks  to  God  whose  love  abides 
And  scatters  bounties  everywhere ; 

Who  in  the  heart  of  Nature  hides 
The  germ  of  His  unfailing  care ! 

More  rich  than  Autumn's  robe  of  leaves 
Should  be  the  garments  of  our  praise, 

And  ampler  than  her  ample  sheaves 
The  charities  that  crown  our  days. 

More  fragrant  than  the  meadow's  breath 
The  incense  of  our  souls  should  rise 

[From  life's  rude  altars  wreathed  by  Faith 
With  borrowed  bloom  from  Paradise. 

Oh,  clearly  then  could  we  behold 

In  flowers  that  fade  and  fruits  that  fall 

Sweet  hints  which  earthly  gifts  infold 
Of  treasure  stored  in  Heaven  for  all. 


TO  JOHN  G.  WHITTIEB, 
ON  HIS  EIGHTIETH  BIRTHDAY. 

TAEAE,  Sponsor  of  my  early  songs, 
**-^     The  grace  that  to  thy  muse  belongs 
I  covet  for  thy  sake  this  day 
When  thou  art  crowned  anew  with  bay. 

Sweet  singers  sing  thy  name  once  more 
As  if  it  were  unsung  before, 
And  I  would  add  my  grateful  lay, 
Dear  Poet,  crowned  anew  with  bay. 

Thy  friends  around  thee  warmly  press, 
And  those  who  know  thee  not  no  less 
Their  far-off  homage  seek  to  pay, 
0  Poet,  crowned  anew  with  bay. 

The  East  and  West  their  greetings  pour 
Like  waves  that  break  along  the  shore 
In  lavish  floods  of  surf  and  spray, 
O  Poet,  crowned  anew  with  bay. 

Yet  length  of  days,  itself  a  crown, 
Thy  noble  life,  thy  name's  renown, 
Make  paltry  all  that  we  can  say, 
And  even  this  thy  crown  of  bay. 

201 


202  TO  JOHN  G.    WHIT  TIER. 

But  oh  !  another  crown  that  gleams 
Beyond  the  poet's  fairest  dreams 
Awaits  thee,  and  almost  to-day 
Transfigures  this  thy  crown  of  bay. 

How  kindle  thy  prophetic  eyes 
As  with  a  vision  of  that  prize, 
The  crown  that  fadeth  not  away 
Fore-shadowed  in  thy  crown  of  bay. 


WOMAN. 

1862. 

A  S  though  no  shade  of  human  wrong  fell  darkly 
•*  ^     on  their  beauty, 
And  all  men  walked  in  brotherhood  the  shining 

ways  of  duty, 
The  blessed  summer  days  glide  by  in  calm  and 

sweet  succession ; 
God   writes   on   Nature's    palace-walls    no   curse 

against  oppression. 

The  strong  man  arms  him  for  the  fight ;  he  hears 

the  bugle  calling ; 
And  while  between  the  patriot-shouts  her  tears 

have  time  for  falling, 
Pale  woman  plies  the  threaded  steel  nor  shapes 

her  lips  to  singing, 
But  still  with  every  stitch  she  draws  the  pearls  of 

prayer  is  stringing. 

She  thinks  of  those  whose  wounds  are  fresh ;  of 

those  in  death-sleep  lying, 

Whose  brows  of  youth  and  manhood  won  their 

brightest  crowns  in  dying; 

203 


204 


WOMAN. 


She  thinks  of  others  brave  and  true  hid  in  the 

smoke  of  battle, 
Where   bayonets    gleam    and    cannon    roar   and 

bullets  hiss  and  rattle. 


She  shudders  while  the  words  of  fate  along  the 
wires  are  chasing, 

Or  trembling  waits  the  hurried  line  some  comrade 
may  be  tracing ; 

Her  heart  grows  faint ;  she  lifts  her  hands  in  an- 
guished imploration : 

"  God  save  my  soldier  ! n  first  she  prays,  and  then, 
"  God  save  the  nation  ! " 


And  when  she  moans,  "  The  very  thought  of  loss 

doth  overcome  me  ! " 
Crying,  "  If  it  be  possible,  oh  let  this  cup  pass 

from  me ! " 
God  chides  her  not  if,  choked  with  sobs,  she  adds 

to  her  petition 
But  brokenly  Christ's  after-words  of  meekness  and 

submission. 


He  saw  her  pale  with  victory  in  the  dark  hour  of 

trial, 
When    Self  lay  slain,  and   sorrowing   Love  was 

fettered  with  denial ; 


WOMAN.  205 

And  the  Divine  One  who  alone  can  clearly  read 

the  human, 
Traces  the  Hero's  autograph  though  tear-blots  of 

the  Woman. 


ABKAHAM  LINCOLN. 

1865. 

"D  EST,  rest  for  him  whose  noble  work  is  done ; 
•**^*     For  him  who  led  us  gently  unaware 
Till  we  were  readier  to  do  and  dare 
For  Freedom,  and  her  hundred  fields  were  won. 

His  march  is  ended  where  his  march  began : 
More  sweet  his  sleep  for  toil  and  sacrifice 
And  that  rare  wisdom  whose  beginning  lies 

In  fear  of  God  and  charity  for  man  : 

And  sweetest  for  the  tender  faith  that  grew 

More  strong  in  trial,  and  through  doubt  more 

clear, 
Seeing  in  clouds  and  darkness  One  appear 

In  whose  dread  name  the  Nation's  sword  he  drew. 

Best,  rest  for  him  ;  and  rest  for  us  to-day 

Whose  sorrow  shook  the  land  from  east  to  west 
When  slain  by  Treason,  on  the  Nation's  breast 

Her  martyr  breathed  his  steadfast  soul  away. 
206 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  207 

0  fervent  heart !  0  cool  and  patient  head ! 

0  shoulders  broad  to  bear  all  others'  blame ! 

Mercy  disguised  herself  beneath  his  name, 
And  Justice  through  his  lips  like  Pity  plead. 

His  truth  could  snare  the  wiliest  of  the  earth  j 
His  wit  outweigh  the  ponderous  debate ; 
By  sneers  unvexed,  in  triumph  unelate, 

He  stood  our  chief  in  place,  our  chief  in  worth. 

Behold,  0  kingdoms  of  the  world,  behold, 
O  mighty  powers  beyond  the  swelling  wave, 
How  fast  as  rain  on  his  untitled  grave 

The  tears  of  millions  mingle  with  the  mould ! 

Such  love  a  prince  might  crave,  such  homage  seek ; 
The  people's  love  that  clothed  him  like  a  king, 
The  grateful  trust  those  hands  were  swift  to  bring 

Whose  broken  fetters  of  deliverance  speak. 

Four  years  ago  unknown  —  to-day  how  dear  ! 
Four  years  that  tried  him  with  a  century's  strain, 
While  Treason  led  his  wretched  hosts  in  vain 

And  turned  Assassin  when  his  doom  was  near. 

Four  little  years  whose  space  a  thought  may  span  ; 
A  niche  in  Time's  vast  hall  where  he  doth  stand, 
To  win  applause  in  every  age  and  land, 

"  The  noblest  work  of  God  —  an  honest  man." 


EPITAPH  ON  ALBERT  LAIGHTON. 

TN  heart  of  home  his  muse  upsprang, 
■*■    And  folded  there  her  lovely  wings ; 
In  heart  of  home  he  ever  sang, 
In  heart  of  home  he  ever  sings. 

208 


^ 


r 


THE  POEMS 

OF 

HARRIET  McEWEN  KIMBALL 


Frontispiece  in  Photogravure 
12mo.  Cloth  $1.50  net 


*J  For  this  new  edition  of  her  poems  Miss  Kimball  has 
made  a  careful  selection  from  her  earlier  volumes,  all 
of  which  are  now  out  of  print,  retaining  only  those 
poems  which  she  deemed  of  most  enduring  character, 
and  adding  forty  or  fifty  hitherto  uncollected  ones. 
The  volume  now  announced  is  therefore  her  definite 
contribution  to  American  literature.  As  a  religious 
poet  she  has  for  many  years  been  considered  the 
foremost  in  this  country.  The  late  Edmund  Clarence 
Stedman  wrote :  "  Her  religious  verse  always  displays, 
besides  great  purity  and  feeling,  the  artistic  grace 
which  marks  her  secular  lyrics." 


